THE  GIFT  OF 

MAY  TREAT  MORRISON 

IN  MEMORY  OF 

ALEXANDER  F  MORRISON 


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BOOKS  OF  TRAVEL  BY  DR.  FIELD. 


From  the  Lakes  of  Killarney  to  the  Golden  Horn. 
With  Portrait  and  Map.     $2.00. 

From  Egypt  to  Japan.     $2.00. 

On  the  Desert.     $2.00. 

Among  the  Holy  Hills.     With  Map.     $1.50. 

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PALESTINE 

Scale  of  Miles 
0      5      10  SO  30 


bo  LlOIlglluJ'^ 


Greenwich  36 


The  JUntlinti  from  Jrrujtalem  Nftrth  Tn>ir/-   '/>■    rmitr  follofcvdin  the  prcneixljovmr 
The  Utui  from  Gmn  sliinr»  tin-  approach  front  the  South  in  coming  up  from  the  Dvi  > 


AMONG  THE  HOLY  HILLS 


BY  HENRY  M.  FIELD,  D.D. 

AUTHOR  OF  "  FEOM  THE  LAKES  OF  KILLAENEY  TO  THE  GOLDEN  HOBN," 
"  FEOM  EGYPT  TO  JAPAN,"  AND  "ON  THE  DESEET." 


SEVENTH  EDITION 


NEW    YOEK 

CHAELES   SCRIBNEK'S   SONS 

1897 


Copyright,  1883,  by 
CHARLES  SCEIBNEE'8  SONS. 


TROWS 
PRINTING  AND  eOOKBlNDINO  COMPANY, 


V 


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V 

f 


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2ro  laarfe  58Jopfeins,  ©.©.,  3L11.1B., 

phujOsopheb  and  teacher,  guide  and  friend, 

these  pages  are  inscribed 

in  loving  and  grateful  remembrance  of 

the  lessons  of  wisdom  from  his  lips 

LONCir  TEARS  AGO. 


427876 


PREFACE. 

That  so  many  have  been  over  the  ground  before,  ia 
no  reason  why  the  latest  comer  should  not  bring  home 
a  handful  of  wild  flowers  from  Palestine.  There  is  enough 
for  all :  let  each  one  gather  what  he  will.  He  who  is 
tempted  and  led  on  by  these  lighter  attractions,  may  find 
something  more  and  better,  as  nature  leads  up  to  Hfe,  and 
a  small  mountain  country  appears  as  the  scene  of  a  great 
history,  and  the  cradle  of  a  religion.  The  beauty  of  nature 
comes  and  goes ;  it  changes  with  the  seasons,  with  the  early 
and  the  latter  rains  ;  but  the  charm  of  sacred  association 
does  not  fade  with  the  falling  leaf  or  the  departing  year. 
The  interest  of  this  above  aU  other  lands,  is  that  here  was 
spent  the  most  wonderful  life  that  ever  was  lived  on  the 
earth.  To  know  that  life,  we  would  trace  it  from  its 
beginning,  among  its  native  hiUs.  Such  a  purpose  has 
given  direction  to  the  present  journey,  which  follows  closely 
in  the  footsteps  of  our  Lord,  not  merely  in  the  streets  of 
Jerusalem,  but  through  Samaria  and  Galilee,  along  the  late 
shore  and  on  the  mountain  side.      Studying  the  history 


VI  PREFACE. 

amid  the  scenes  in  which  it  transpired,  it  is  a  constant  sur- 
prise and  dehght  to  see  how  the  narrative  fits  into  the  very 
landscape,  and  is  reflected  in  it,  as  trees  on  the  bank  of  a 
river  are  reflected  in  its  bosom.  To  give  freshness  to  the 
scene,  is  to  give  reahty  to  the  event ;  faith  comes  by  sight, 
and  as  sight  grows  clearer,  faith  grows  stronger.  And  so 
at  every  step  the  sacred  story  becomes  more  real  and  more 
true. 

If  the  descriptions  in  these  pages  often  digress  into 
reflections,  the  writer  cannot  help  it :  he  must  speak  of 
that  which  is  uppermost  in  his  thoughts.  One  presence 
is  everywhere,  and  we  walk  in  its  light.  At  the  same  time 
he  has  tried  not  to  moralize  too  much  ;  but  to  enliven  his 
soberness  with  narrative  and  incident,  so  that  the  journey 
may  not  seem  long,  and  that  whoever  keeps  him  company 
may  not  grow  weary  by  the  way.  Thus  riding  side  by 
side  among  the  holy  hills,  we  may  pass  the  time  not  un- 
pleasantly, and  gain  what  is,  after  all,  the  best  fruit  of 
travel — some  real  knowledge,  a  clearer  understanding,  and 
a  stronger  faith. 


CONTENTS 


I.    Round  the  Walls  :   The  Towees  and  Btjlwaeks 9 

II.    Jerusalem  in  Holy  Week.    The  Aemenian  Pateiaech. 

Celebeation  OF  THE  Passovee.    The  Mosque  OF  Omae.    23 

III.  The  Chuech  of  the  Holt  Sepulchee.     Feet  Washing 

BY  the  Geeek  Pateiaech 35 

IV.  The   Geeek    Fiee,  supposed   to   be    lighted   by   the 

Descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost 44 

V.    A  Solitabt  Walk  feom  Gethsemane  to  Calvaey 53 

VI.    At  the  Ceoss  and  the  Sepulchee 62 

VII.    Feom  Jerusalem  to  Bethel,  Shiloh,  and  Jacob's  Well.    72 
VIII.    Nablous.    a  Day  that  was  not  all  Sunshine.    A  Tale 

OP  Eobbeey  and  of  Tuekish  Justice 88 

IX.    To  Samaeia  and  Jenin.    Falling  again  among  Thieves.  102 

X.    A  Eide  Ovee  the  Plain  of  Esdeaelon Ill 

XI.    Nazabeth.    Eenan's  Life  of  Jesus.    Can  that  Life  be 

Explained  as  in  the  Oedee  of  Natuee  ? 121 

XII.    To   Mount   Caemel.     Incursions   of   the   Bedaween. 

Projected  Eailway  oe  Canal  in  Palestine 134 

XIII.  To    Tibeeias.      The   Seemon    on    the    Mount  :    Is   it 

Philosophy,  oe  Genius,  oe  Divinity  ? 151 

XIV.  Bound  the  Sea  of  Galilee 166 

XV.    To  C^sarea-Philippi,  and  Round  Mount  Hermon 178 

XVI.    The  City  of  Damascus 190 

XVII.    Over  Anti-Lebanon.    The  Mountain  Valleys 204 

XVIII.    Sabbath  Musings  in  the  Ruins  of  Baalbec 214 

XIX.    Valley  of  Coele-Syria.    Crossing  Mount  Lebanon 224 

XX.    Beirut.    Ameeica  in  the  East 231 


AMONG  THE  HOLY  HILLS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ROUND    THE   WALLS THE   TOAVERS   AND    BULWARKS. 

We  had  come  up  to  Jerusalem  at  the  time  of  the  Pass- 
over. The  city  was  filled  with  pHgrims  ;  there  was  the  stir 
and  sound  of  moving  to  and  fro,  the  buzz  and  hum  of  a 
multitude,  such  as  might  have  been  heard  two  thousand 
years  ago,  when  the  tribes  came  up  to  the  solemn  feasts. 
And  yet — it  was  not  the  Jerusalem  of  my  dreams !  I  had 
looked  for  a  city  that  even  in  hoary  age  had  some  remains 
of  its  former  magnificence.  I  had  looked  also  for  some- 
thing that  should  remind  me  of  the  ancient  people  and  the 
ancient  worship — venerable  rabbis,  with  long  gray  beards 
and  flowing  robes,  chanting  the  Psalms  of  David.  But  I 
found  lii*tle  to  admire  either  in  the  city  or  its  inhabitants. 
The  city  is  indeed  pictiiresque  in  situation,  standing  on  its 
mountain  height ;  and  when  seen  fi'om  a  distance,  with  its 
waUs  and  towers,  its  appearance  is  very  striking.  This 
rouses  the  traveller,  as  he  approaches  it,  to  an  attitude  of 
expectation,  fi'om  which  he  is  rudely  awakened  as  he  enters 
within  the  walls,  where  the  first  impression  is  disappoint- 
ing, and  even  painful.  It  has  neither  the  beauty  of  a  mod- 
ern city,  nor  the  sombre  stateliness  of  an  ancient  one.  In 
its  interior  it  has  all  the  unsightly  features  of  an  Oriental 


10  ROUND   THE   WALLS. 

town — narrow  street?,  in  which  there  is  no  distinction  of 
the  roadwny  for  beasts  ci  burden  and  the  path  for  human 
feet,  but  men  and  wcmen  are  j(^stled  and  crowded  to  the 
wall  by  horses  and  assea  and  camels.  As  the  traveller  picks 
his  way  over  the  rough  stones,  through  the  deep  mire,  while 
every  open  door  that  permits  a  glance  within  uncovers  a 
pictiu-e  of  squalid  wretchedness,  he  feels  indeed  that  this 
is  not  "  Jerusalem  the  Golden." 

So  wide  is  the  gulf  between  the  Jerusalem  that  now  is 
and  that  which  we  have  had  in  our  imaginings,  that  many 
prefer  not  to  visit  it  lest  the  painful  sight  should  disturb 
their  devout  meditations.  Mr.  Spurgeon,  whom  I  met  at 
Mentone  on  my  way  to  the  East,  expressed  a  positive  re- 
luctance to  making  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Land.  He 
seemed  to  fear  that  the  sight  of  so  much  that  was  far  from 
sacred,  would  jar  painfully  on  his  cherished  impressions  of 
the  land  where  our  Saviour  lived  and  died.  Such  appre- 
hensions would  dissuade  a  traveller  from  going  to  Jerusa- 
lem, and  even  if  he  had  been  there,  would  almost  discourage 
him  from  attempting  to  describe  it.  Possibly  we  may  find 
something  of  a  different  character.     Let  us  see. 

Jerusalem  is  a  city  set  on  a  hill,  or  rather  an  elevated 
plateau,  half  a  mUe  above  the  level  of  the  Mediterranean, 
and  so  cut  off  by  deep  ravines  from  the  surrounding  coiin- 
trj',  that  it  is  Uke  a  bold  headland  jutting  into  the  sea,  and 
joined  to  the  mainland  only  on  its  northwestern  side.  This 
neck  of  land  is  not  very  large  to  be  the  site  of  a  capital — 
only  about  a  thousand  acres  in  all,  and  to  this  must  be 
confined  the  city  that  is  built  upon  it.  "Jerusalem  is 
builded  as  a  city  that  is  compact  together."  It  is  "  com- 
pact "  because  it  has  no  room  to  expjind.  In  the  da^'S  of 
its  prosperity  the  whole  plateau  was  densely  populated. 
In  the  time  of  Christ  the  walls  were  a  little  more  than  four 
miles  in  extent ;  thev  are  now  but  two  and  a  half.     But  if 


THE   TOWERS   AND   BULWARKS.  11 

the  city  be  of  so  limited  extent,  so  much  the  easier  to  en- 
compass it  on  every  side,  and  take  in  its  proportions,  and 
define  its  character. 

To  get  a  general  impression  of  Jerusalem,  there  is  but 
one  way  :  "  Walk  about  Zion,  and  go  round  about  her." 
This  direction  we  have  obeyed  Uterally,  making  the  circuit 
of  the  city  without  and  within,  and  going  round  on  the  top 
of  the  walls.  Dr.  Post  of  Beirut,  who  was  my  companion 
on  the  Desert,  and  up  to  the  gates  of  Jerusalem,  kindly 
offered  to  be  my  guide  through  the  streets  of  the  holy 
city. 

Our  first  excursion  was  outside  the  walls,  and  the  first 
natiiral  featiire  of  the  environs  we  explored,  was  the  Valley 
of  Hinnom  !  This  was  beginning  low  enough  by  a  descent 
into  Gehenna !  Going  out  by  the  Jaffa  Gate,  we  turned 
to  the  left  and  descended  the  slope,  verging  away  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  valley,  so  that  we  might  stand  "  over 
against  the  city,"  at  a  sufficient  distance  to  obtain  a  gen- 
eral view.  Here  we  stood  facing  Mount  Zion,  its  bold 
height  rising  directly  before  us.  It  is  a  very  ancient  part 
of  Jerusalem,  for  though  it  bears  the  name  of  the  City 
of  David,  it  was  a  city,  a  fortified  town  or  castle,  long 
before  David  was  bom.  Four  hundred  years  after  Joshua 
crossed  the  Jordan,  and  the  tribes  were  settled  in  different 
parts  of  Canaan,  Jerusalem  was  still  held  by  the  Jebusites, 
who  driven  from  the  valleys,  retreated  to  this  mountain 
fastness,  from  which  they  defied  the  Hebrew  invaders. 
The  capture  of  this  stronghold  was  the  great  military 
achievement  of  Joab,  after  which  David  transferred  his 
seat  of  government  from  Hebron  to  Jerusalem.  A  little 
below  the  brow  of  yonder  hill  is  still  pointed  out  a  wall 
that  is  supposed  to  have  been  built  by  the  Jebusites,  and 
close  within  the  wall  are  old  cisterns  for  securing  rain 
water,  which  supplied  the  garrison. 


12  ROUND   THE   WALLS. 

Descending  into  the  valley,  we  are  carried  back  to  a 
point  in  history  stiU  more  remote,  when  this  deep  yet  vdde 
space — Uke  the  Campus  Martins  at  Rome — was  the  scene 
of  feasts  and  games  and  of  an  idolatrous  festival  which 
was  a  carnival  of  superstition  and  ferocity,  for  here  the 
Canaanites  celebrated  the  worship  of  Moloch  by  human 
sacrifices  —  causing  their  sons  and  daughters  to  pass 
through  the  fire.  With  such  associations  it  is  not  strange 
that  the  Valley  of  Hinnom  had  an  evil  name,  as  of  a  place 
accursed.  When  the  Israelites  became  masters  of  Jerusa- 
lem, it  was  made  a  receptacle  for  the  ofifal  of  the  city  which 
was  cast  forth  to  be  burned,  so  that,  as  its  smoke  was  con- 
tinually ascending,  it  was  not  an  unfit  type  of  the  place  of 
torment.  Looking  down  upon  it  is  the  HiU  of  Evil  Coun- 
sel, on  which  stood,  according  to  tradition,  the  house  of 
Caiaphas,  to  which  Judas  came  to  ofifer  the  betrayal  of 
Christ.  Thus  the  very  aii*  seemed  to  whisper  of  treacheiy 
and  blood.  At  the  present  day  the  vaUey  speaks  not  of 
crime  so  much  as  of  miserj',  for  it  is  one  of  the  places  near 
Jerusalem  where  lepers  sit  by  the  wayside  begging,  the 
most  wretched  objects  ever  seen  in  human  form,  with 
bodies  d}4ng  inch  by  inch  and  dropping  away,  while  they 
stretch  out  their  mutilated  hands  for  alms. 

Leaving  the  sulphurous  atmosphere  which  may  easily 
be  imagined  to  float  over  the  VaUey  of  Hinnom,  as  if  its 
fires  were  stUl  burning,  we  pass  farther  round  the  base  of 
Zion,  and  come  suddenly  upon  a  fountain  of  bright  and 
sparkling  water.  This  is  Siloam,  gushing  out  of  the  rock 
at  the  foot  of  the  Hill  of  Ophel,  which  was  once  included 
within  the  walls.  The  spring  flows  in  such  volume  as  to 
fiU  a  large  "  Pool,"  which  supplies  the  village  of  Siloam, 
and  to  which  the  women  come  with  their  pitchers,  and 
even  wash  their  clothes  by  the  side  of  the  spacious  reser- 
voir.    Beyond  this  Pool  of  Siloam  is  another  spring  called 


THE   TOWEKS    AND    BULWARKS.  13 

St.  ]\Iary's  Well,  wliich  is  fed  from  the  same  source, 
exploration  having  shown  them  to  be  connected,  although 
the  distance  under  the  rock  is  a  third  of  a  mile.  Indeed, 
adventurous  travellers,  who  do  not  mind  stooping  or  even 
prostration,  can  make  the  passage.  We  preferred  to  leave 
it  to  the  more  supple  and  more  nimble  Ai'abs,  who  crouch 
like  cats,  and  creep  and  crawl  anywhere,  under  ground  or 
above  ground,  in  the  heart  of  the  earth,  or  up  the  side  of 
a  mountain,  and  for  whom  it  is  a  common  feat  to  go  in  at 
one  entrance  and  come  out  at  the  other.  Even  while  we 
were  at  the  Pool,  a  swarthy  fellow  shot  into  the  dai'kness, 
and  a  few  minutes  later,  as  we  stood  at  St.  Marj^'s  Well,  he 
reappeared  fr'om  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  wet  and  dripping. 
This  perpetual  spiing,  rising  in  the  very  heart  of  Jerusa- 
lem, in  the  ftu-thest  recesses  of  its  rocky  bed,  and  having 
this  double  outflow,  must  have  been,  when  included  within 
the  walls,  of  priceless  value  to  the  ancient  inhabitants, 
who  in  case  of  siege  might  otherwise  have  perished  by 
a  water  famine.  To  this  the  Psalmist  refers  with  pious 
gratitude  when  he  says,  "  There  is  a  river  the  streams 
whereof  make  glad  the  city  of  God,  the  holy  place  of  the 
tabernacles  of  the  Most  High." 

In  making  the  circuit  of  the  city,  another  feature  comes 
into  view,  which  it  is  necessary  to  understand  in  order  to 
have  a  clear  idea  of  the  topography  of  Jerusalem.  At  the 
point  where  the  Spring  of  Siloam  issues  fr'om  the  rock,  is  a 
ravine  descending  into  the  vaUey,  which  cuts  through  the 
rocky  plateau  on  which  the  city  stands.  This  is  the  Tji-o- 
pcean  valley,  which,  running  north  and  south,  cleaves  the 
city  in  twain,  dividing  Mount  Zion  from  Mount  Moriah, 
a  gorge  or  chasm  once  spanned,  though  at  some  distance 
farther  up  the  TjTopoean,  by  a  massive  bridge,  of  which 
the  huge  base-stones  still  remain,  over  which  King  Solomon 
could  pass  from  his  palace  to  the  Temple. 


14  ROUND    1HK    AVALLS. 

And  now  we  sweep  round  the  base  of  the  hill,  and 
leave  the  Valley  of  Hinnom  to  enter  the  Valley  of  Jehosha- 
phat,  or  of  the  Kedron — the  Black  Valley,  as  the  latter 
name  imports,  from  the  rugged  and  rocky  sides  which 
frown  over  the  depth  below.  The  point  where  the  two 
vaUeys  meet  is  the  lowest  depression  in  the  circuit  of 
Jerusalem,  being  six  hundred  and  seventy  feet  lower  than 
the  highest  point  on  Mount  Zion. 

As  we  pass  up  the  Valley  of  the  Kedron,  we  draw 
under  the  shadow  (for  it  is  afternoon,  and  the  sun  is  in  the 
west)  of  Mount  Moriah,  and  of  the  walls  which  enclose  the 
Temple  area.  Here  they  rise  to  their  greatest  height  :  for 
as  Moriah  descends  by  a  sudden  and  almost  precipitous 
slope,  foundations  had  to  be  laid  far  below  in  the  solid 
rock,  and  the  superstructure  carried  far  above,  to  bring 
this  angle  of  the  area  on  a  level  with  the  rest  of  the 
plateau  on  w'hich  the  Temple  stood.  Looking  upward,  a 
traveller  who  has  come  from  Britain  may  be  pardoned  if 
he  feels  a  tinge  of  regret  at  the  absence  of  a  featui'e  which 
would  give  at  least  greater  picturesqueness  to  the  fortress- 
like enclosure — a  wish  that  it  were  mantled  with  the  ivy 
which  gives  such  beauty  to  the  castle  walls  and  cathedral 
towers  of  England.  But  it  stands  bare  and  naked  under 
the  burning  Eastern  sun.  Its  very  height  is  masked, 
and  rendered  less  imposing,  by  the  ruin  that  has  accumu- 
lated round  its  base,  which  now  lies  buried  under  the 
debris  of  ages,  the  wreck  of  the  many  sieges  in  which  the 
ancient  walls  were  thrown  down.  Explorers  have  exca- 
vated to  a  depth  sufficient  to  detennine  that  the  wall  at 
the  southeastern  comer  was  over  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
high !  This  was  the  pinnacle  of  the  Temple,  fi'om  which 
our  Lord  was  tempted  to  cast  himself  down.  Throned  on 
such  a  height  rose  the  Temple  of  Solomon,  with  its 
columns  of  precious  stones  and  its  roof  of  gold.     From 


THE    TOWERS    AND    BULWARKS.  15 

its  position,  it  could  be  seen  at  a  great  distance.  The  men 
of  Gad  and  of  Reuben,  who  dwelt  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Jordan  and  of  the  Dead  Sea,  as  they  went  up  to  the  top  of 
the  mountains  of  Moab,  saw  the  rising  sun  reflected  back 
from  it ;  and  when  the  sun  went  down,  the  reflection  fo-om 
the  other  side  of  the  city  shone  far  away  over  the  hills 
towards  the  Western  Sea. 

But  it  was  not  the  Temple  alone  to  which  the  Jew 
turned  viith.  wonder  and  with  pride.  In  the  time  of 
Solomon,  when  the  Hebrew  monarchy  attained  its  greatest 
splendor,  Jerusalem  was  a  city  of  palaces.  As  Mount 
Moriah  was  covered  with  the  Temple,  so  Mount  Zion  was 
covered  with  palaces,  which  from  its  greater  height — - 
over  a  hundred  feet  above  Moriah — were  seen  at  a  still 
greater  distance,  and  must  have  shown,  in  the  light  of  the 
rising  or  the  setting  sun,  with  dazzling  splendor. 

And  now  we  discover  where  John  found  the  imagery  for 
the  glowing  pictures  in  the  Apocalypse  of  the  Mount  Zion 
that  is  above,  the  New  Jerusalem,  that  to  his  enraptured 
rision  seemed  to  come  down  from  God  out  of  heaven. 
Those  shining  walls,  that  caught  the  first  ghmpses  of  the 
dawn,  and  on  which  lingered  the  last  rays  of  evening 
twihght,  may  well  have  seemed  no  unworthy  type  of  the 
heavenly  battlements  ;  the  Gate  Beautiful  of  the  gates  of 
pearl  ;  and  the  whole  majestic  Temple  to  be  outshone 
only  by  that  Celestial  City  where  there  is  "no  temple,"  and 
which  "  has  no  need  of  the  sun  or  of  the  moon  to  shine  in 
it :  for  the  gloiy  of  God  doth  lighten  it,  and  the  Lamb  is 
the  light  thereof." 

As  we  sauntered  along  the  slopes  of  the  valley,  we  found 
that  we  were  walking  among  the  graves  of  the  dead,  many 
of  whom,  IsraeUtes  in  race,  had  Uved  and  perhaps  died  far 
from  the  land  of  their  fathers,  but  had  desired  to  be  buried 
under  the  walls  of  Jerusalem. 


16  ROUND   THE   AVALLS. 

From  St.  Stephen's  gate  we  descended  to  the  brook 
Kedi-on,  and  crossing  it,  cHmbed  the  Mount  of  OUves, 
which  commands  the  best  ^-iew  of  Jerusalem  ;  and  return- 
ing along  the  northern  wall,  past  the  Damascus  gate,  after 
an  excursion  of  four  hours,  reentered  the  city  by  the  Jaffa 
Gate. 

Another  day  we  made  the  circuit  of  the  city  on  the  top 
of  the  walls.  Dr.  Post  leading  the  way  with  the  same 
elastic  step  with  which  he  had  climbed  Mount  Serbal. 
From  this  point  of  vantage  we  looked  down  into  the  inte- 
rior of  the  city,  and  saw  how  it  was  divided  by  the  Tyro- 
poean  Valley,  not  only  into  halves  but  into  quarters,  by  side 
ravines  projecting  east  and  west,  so  that  Jerusalem  may 
be  said  to  stand  on  four — as  Rome  stands  on  seven — ^hills. 

Resting  on  the  tower  over  the  Damascus  gate,  we 
looked  northward  over  the  more  elevated  ground  on  that 
side  of  the  city  which  has  furnished  the  only  approach  for 
aU  the  besiegers  and  conquerors  of  Jerusalem.  There 
spread  far  and  wide  the  hosts  of  Nebuchadnezzar,  who 
captiu'ed  the  city  and  carried  away  the  inhabitants  to 
Babylon.  The  seventy  years  of  the  captivity  is  one  of  the 
sad  and  melancholy  periods  of  Jewish  history,  so  pathet- 
ically and  mournfully  depicted  in  the  Lamentations  of 
Jeremiah.  From  this  long  exile  the  descendants  of  those 
who  had  been  carried  away  captive,  returned  to  rebuild  the 
walls  of  Jerusalem.  Centuries  afterwards  the  city  opened 
its  gates  to  Alexander  the  Great.  On  the  same  high 
ground  Titus  marshalled  the  Roman  legions,  and  advanced 
his  batteiing-rams  to  crush  the  walls.  Later  still  it  became 
the  battle-ground  of  the  Saracens  and  the  Crusaders — of 
Saladin  and  Coeur  de  Lion.  So  does  history  pass  before 
us  as  we  stand  on  the  towers  of  Jerusalem. 

Recalling  this  long  succession  of  calamities,  I  wondered 
not  that  the  IsraeHtes  had  such   downcast  and   haggard 


THE   TOWERS   AND    BULWARKS.  17 

faces.  They  seemed  to  carry  on  their  very  foreheads  all 
the  oppressions  and  cruelties  which  have  smitten  their 
race.  And  when  I  went  to  the  Place  of  Wailinjj^,  and  saw 
men  and  women,  the  old  and  the  young,  putting  their  heads 
against  the  gi'eat  foundation-stones  of  the  Temple  area,  and 
bemoaning  in  bitter  accents  the  fate  of  their  city — "0  God, 
the  heathen  are  come  into  thine  inheritance !  " — in  their 
cries  and  tears  I  seemed  to  see  the  woes  of  all  the  ages 
coming  upon  this  generation. 

Contempt  ceases  where  i^ity  begins,  and  pity  soon 
changes  to  respect.  No  one  can  see  the  bowed  heads  and 
weeping  eyes,  and  hear  the  sobbings  which  many  try  in 
vain  to  repress,  without  a  great  tenderness  of  feeling  for 
the  unhappy  Israelites,  who  after  wandering  up  and  down 
in  the  earth,  have  come  back  to  Jerusalem  to  die. 

Nay,  the  very  city  itself  takes  on  a  new  aspect,  as  it 
tells  in  its  iniins  the  history  of  ages  of  destruction.  I  have 
spoken  of  the  mu-e  of  the  streets,  which  is  at  times  almost 
unfathomable.  But  there  is  a  history  in  the  very  soil 
beneath  our  feet,  when  we  recall  how  it  has  been  fought 
for  by  the  Maccabees  and  other  brave  defenders  : 

' '  Heroes  have  perished  here  ; 
'Tis  on  their  dust  ye  tread." 

Indeed  the  history  of  Jerusalem  is  wi'itten  in  its  streets, 
from  the  days  of  Uzziah  the  King,  when  it  was  shaken 
with  an  earthquake,  which  cleft  its  rocky  foundations,  and 
shattered  its  massive  walls.  And  what  battles  have  raged 
round  these  walls !  Twenty-seven  times  has  the  city  been  be- 
sieged !  Babylonian  and  Assyrian  and  Egyi:)tian  in  turn  have 
come  up  against  it,  to  be  followed  by  Roman  and  Saracen, 
Crusader  and  Turk,  who,  one  and  all,  have  laid  waste  the 
holy  city,  till  more  than  once  it  has  seemed  as  if  there  was 
not  left  one  stone  upon  another  that  was  not  thrown  down. 
Thus  Jerusalem  has  been  literally  "  laid  on  heaps,"  till  the 


18  ROUND    THE    WALLS. 

ancient  city  has  been  bimed  as  completely  as  Pompeii.  As 
in  Rome  there  is  a  city  under  the  present  city,  so  there  are 
eight  Jemsalems,  lying  one  upon  another,  like  the  strata  of 
the  rock-ribbed  hills.  They  are  reckoned  thus  :  1,  the  city 
of  the  Jebusites  ;  2,  of  Solomon ;  3,  of  Nehemiah ;  4,  of 
Herod,  which  was  destroyed  in  the  siege  by  Titus  in  the 
year  70  ;  5,  in  the  year  130  the  Emperor  Hadrian  began  to 
rebuild  it,  and  it  continued  under  the  Roman  dominion  to 
the  time  of  the  Mohammedan  conquest ;  6,  the  early  Mos- 
lem ;  7,  the  city  of  the  Crusaders  ;  8,  the  later  Moslem, 
which  still  stands  ingloriously  on  the  wreck  and  niin  of  all 
that  have  preceded  it.  In  the  year  1244  the  city  was  be- 
sieged for  the  last  time.  In  walking  about,  we  often  passed 
iinder  arches  hardly  above  our  heads,  which  was  explained 
by  the  fact  that  the  foundations  were  far  down  in  the  earth  : 
arches  and  walls  are  buried  underground.  Forty  feet  be- 
neath the  Via  Dolorosa  are  Roman  pavements,  over  which 
passed  the  victorious  legions  nearly  two  thousand  jeaxs  ago. 
Thus  from  the  very  beginning  changes  have  been  going  on  *, 
from  century  to  century  the  city  has  been  reconstructed  by 
new  creations,  and  biuied  again  by  new  destructions,  till 
the  dust  of  Jerusalem  is  thick  with  the  ashes  of  a  hundred 
generations.  Reflections  like  these  cause  us  to  lose  the 
feeling  of  disgust  in  a  melancholy  musing  and  mourning 
over  its  decay.  Its  very  wi'etchedness  becomes — I  will  not 
say  picturesque  :  that  is  too  light  a  word — but  mournfully 
suggestive,  as  we  think  of  the  tale  it  tells.  "  How  doth  the 
city  sit  soHtary  that  was  fuU  of  people !  how  is  she  become 
as  a  widow !  she  that  was  great  among  the  nations !  "  With 
the  crown  taken  from  her  head,  and  no  son  to  restore  her 
fallen  greatness,  it  may  be  said  of  her  even  more  than  of 
Rome  : 

"  The  Niobe  of  nations,  there  she  stands, 
Crownless  and  childless  in  her  voiceless  woe ! ' ' 


THE   TOWERS    AND    BULWARKS.  19 

As  we  came  back  from  oiu*  excursions  day  after  day,  I 
would  trace  them  out  on  a  map,  and  try  to  put  in  order 
what  we  had  seen,  so  as  to  reconstruct  the  holy  city.  Our 
hotel  —  the  Mediten\anean  —  furnished  a  good  point  of 
observation.  As  it  stood  on  Mount  Zion — think  of  a  hotel 
on  Mount  Zion ! — it  looked  down  upon  Mount  Moriah,  and 
into  the  Temple  area,  and  indeed  commanded  a  view  of  a 
large  part  of  the  city  and  of  the  surrounding  country. 
From  the  upper  story,  which  was  open  at  one  end  like  a 
veranda,  I  could  toss  a  biscuit  into  the  Pool  of  Hezekiah, 
which  that  wise  Hebrew  king  constructed  in  the  heart  of 
the  city  to  supply  it  vdth  water,  as  Solomon  had  constructed 
the  larger  Pools  which  bear  his  name  beyond  Bethlehem. 
A  little  farther  away  is  a  vast  enclosure  which  belongs  to 
the  Knights  of  St.  John,  and  tells  of  the  short  century — 
only  eighty-eight  years — when  the  Crusaders  were  masters 
of  Jerusalem.  Turning  to  the  east,  one  could  take  in  at 
the  same  moment  the  Chui*ch  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  where 
Christian  pilgrims  were  kneeling  at  their  sacred  shrines, 
and  the  Mosque  of  Omar,  where  devout  Moslems  were 
bowing,  with  their  faces  towards  Mecca.  Indeed  this 
outlook  commands  a  wider  sweep,  not  only  to  the  Mount 
of  OHves,  but  far  away  to  the  mountains  of  Moab  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Dead  Sea. 

But  we  have  a  nearer  object  to  attract  the  eye,  and 
touch  the  imagination.  In  front  of  the  hotel  is  an  open 
place,  on  one  side  of  which  stands  the  Tower  of  David — ■ 
one  of  the  oldest  and  best-presei'A'ed  monuments  in  Jerusa- 
lem. It  is  a  massive  structure,  with  walls  of  great  strength 
and  height,  as  if  designed  to  be  at  once  a  watch-tower  to 
overlook  the  city,  and  a  castle  for  refuge  and  defence.  It 
is  still  called  the  Citadel,  and  is  ganisoned  by  soldiers. 
Though  buHt  by  Herod,  it  bears  the  name  of  the  Hebrew 
King,  from  an  old  tradition  that  David's  Palace  stood  on 


20  ROUND    THE   AVATXS. 

this  very  spot.  Here  was  an  association  to  kindle  our 
musings,  as  we  sat  on  the  balcony  of  ovir  room  in  the 
evening',  and  looked  up  to  the  gi'ay  old  walls.  The  Pass- 
over is  always  at  the  time  of  the  full  moon,  which  was  now 
flooding  the  holy  city,  and  giving  a  strange,  almost  ghostly, 
appeai-ance  to  its  melancholy  ruins.  As  I  sat  there  in  the 
moonhght,  there  was  something  in  the  scene  "  so  sad  and 
fair  " — in  the  clouds  that  flew  across  the  sky,  and  the  night 
wind  that  moaned  around  the  ancient  Tower,  and  died 
away  along  the  city  walls — that  set  my  fancies  in  motion. 
Like  Bunyan,  "  I  dreamed  a  dream."  Scenes  of  the  past 
rose  before  me  like  visions  of  the  night,  and  floated  away 
over  the  Judean  hiUs.  Kings  and  prophets  seemed  to 
rise  out  of  their  sepulchres  ;  and  of  all  the  Hebrew  kings, 
he  who  reigned  in  yonder  palace  drew  most  near.  Here 
he  gave  laws  to  his  people,  and  perhaps  as  a  warrior  gave 
commands  to  his  armies.  From  this  royal  house,  it  may 
be,  he  fled  at  the  conspiracy  of  Absalom,  and  here  returned, 
victorious  but  desolate.  Here — perhaps  on  such  a  night  as 
this — he  looked  out  of  the  windows  of  his  palace  and  sang 
"The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  firma- 
ment showeth  his  handiwork."  "  AVhen  I  consider  thy 
heavens,  the  work  of  thy  fingers,  the  moon  and  the  stars 
which  thou  hast  ordained,  what  is  man  that  thou  art 
mindful  of  him,  and  the  son  of  man  that  thou  visitest 
him?"  Here  perhaps  he  breathed  his  last,  and  when 
dying  gave  to  Solomon  a  charge  which  might  serve  for  aU 
kings  that  should  ever  reign  on  the  earth  :  "  INIy  son,  know 
thou  the  God  of  thy  father,  and  serve  him  with  a  perfect 
heart  and  with  a  willing  mind.  ...  If  thou  seek  him,  he 
will  be  found  of  thee  ;  T)ut  if  thou  forsake  him,  he  will  cast 
thee  ofif  forever." 

Such  associations  might  be  multiplied  to  any  extent. 
If  any  should  question  the  site  of  the  Palace  of  David,  none 


THE   TOWERS    AND    BULWARKS.  21 

will  dispute  that  the  Tower  was  bviilt  by  Herod,  and  that  if 
its  upper  part  has  been  destroyed  and  rebuilt,  at  least  the 
massive  foundation-stones,  to  a  height  of  some  foiiy  feet, 
were  laid  by  the  King  who  rebuilt  the  Temple,  and  whose 
pride  was  in  rearing  towers  and  palaces.     It  was  standing 
when  Christ  walked  these  streets  :    he  saw  it  a  thousand 
times.     It  is  quite  probable  that  he  passed  it  the  last  night 
that   he  spent  on  earth,  on   his  way  to   the  Coenaculum, 
which  is  farther  west  on  Mount  Zion,  where  he  kept  the 
Passover  with  his  disciples.     The  Paschal  moon  was  shin- 
ing then,  as  it  is  shining   now,  and  perhaps  he  paused 
before  this  Tower  to  look  vip  to  it  for  the  last  time.     The 
very  next  day  a  Roman  soldier  standing  on  its  top,  and 
looking  down  on  a  scene  that  was  going  on  just  without 
the  city  walls,  might  have  been  a  spectator  of  the  Crucifix- 
ion.    He  would  have  felt  creeping  over  him  a  shuddering 
horror  at  the  mysterious  darkening  of  the  eai-th  and  sky, 
and  felt  the  massive  foundations  under  him  reeHng  with 
the  shock  of  the  earthquake,  when  the  rocks  were  rent  and 
the  graves  were  opened.     In  the  destruction  of  Jenisalem 
this  Tower  was  spared  by  Titus,  and  stood  almost  alone 
amid  the  mighty  niin  ;  and  so  it  has  remained,  sometimes 
dismantled   and  broken,   yet  reconstructed  ;    and   stiU  it 
stands,  and  may  stand  until  it  sees  our  Lord  coming  again 
in  the  clouds  of  Heaven. 

With  such  memories  revived  by  walks  about  Jerusalem, 
and  meditations  in  it,  how  can  any  one  feel  that  a  visit  to 
it  in  any  wise  robs  it  of  its  charm  ?  Nay,  rather  that 
which  was  a  dream  is  made  a  reality  ;  by  familiarizing 
one's  eyes  with  sacred  locahties,  sacred  events  are  recalled  ; 
the  life  of  our  Divine  Master  becomes  more  real  as  we  visit 
the  city  where  he  Hved  and  died  ;  as  we  pass  over  the  very- 
paths  once  trodden  by  his  blessed  feet  ;  as  we  go  to  the 
Mount  of  Olives,  where  he  so  often  knelt  and  prayed  ;  as 


22  ROUXD    THE    AVALLS. 

coming  from  Bethany,  we  pause  at  the  spot  where,  "  when 
he  was  come  near,  he  beheld  the  city  and  wept  over  it." 
These  are  helps,  not  hindi-ances,  to  our  faith  ;  they  make 
the  New  Testament,  in  many  portions  of  it,  a  new  book  to 
us.  This  it  is  to  tread  the  streets  of  Jerusalem,  until  one 
comes  to  find  pleasure  in  her  stones,  because  out  of  these 
stones  he  can  reconstruct  the  ancient  city,  from  which  came 
Religion,  flowing,  like  Siloam,  out  of  the  heart  of  the  rock, 
and,  like  that,  making  glad  the  city  of  God,  the  holy  place 
of  the  tabernacles  of  the  Most  High.  Here  we  trace  to  its 
source  much  that  enters  into  modem  history  and  modem 
civilization.  A  city  that  has  such  mighty  memories  is  not 
dead,  but  hving  ;  her  very  woes  touch  the  hearts  and  the 
imaginations  of  men  ;  and  thus  she  has  a  power  over  the 
world  even  in  her  ruins. 


CHAPTER  n. 

JERUSALEM    IN    HOLY  WEEK THE  ARMENIAN  PATRI- 
ARCH  JEWS  AND   MOSLEMS. 

For  the  greater  part  of  the  year  Jerusalem  is  pro- 
nounced by  most  travellers  "insufferably  dull."  Coming 
from  the  life  and  gayety  of  European  capitals,  they  are 
oppressed  by  the  utter  stagnation  of  a  city  where  there  is 
no  business  or  commercial  life  ;  where  there  is  not  a  single 
place  of  amusement,  not  a  theatre,  nor  even  a  club  ;  where 
the  mail  comes  but  once  a  week,  and  there  is  not  even  a 
newspaper,  except  a  little  sheet  in  Hebrew — a  language 
with  which  they  are  not  supposed  to  be  familiar. 

But  once  in  the  year  the  sleepy  old  town  awakes  from 
its  long  hibernation,  as  strangers  from  afar,  from  beyond 
the  seas,  come  riding  over  the  hills,  and  throng  in  at  the 
Jaffa  Gate.  The  Holy  Week  brings  some  ten  thousand 
pilgrims,  the  greater  part  of  whom  find  lodging  in  the 
numerous  convents,  while  EngHshmen  and  Americans  seek 
more  comfortable  quarters  in  the  hotels.  "When  we  were 
at  the  Jordan,  at  the  place  of  the  Baptism,  we  met  an  Eng- 
lish party,  and  to  our  inqviiry  if  there  were  any  strangers 
in  Jerusalem,  a  bold  Briton  answered  in  language  more 
emphatic  than  elegant,  that  "  it  was  ram-jammed  full  1  " 


2i  JERUSALEM    IN    HOLY    WEEK. 

However,  tlu'ougli  the  kind  offices  of  the  Ajnerican  Consul, 
we  found  rooms  at  the  Mediterranean  Hotel,  where  we> 
were  made  very  comfortable  for  the  eleven  days  of  our 
stay. 

In  the  divisions  of  the  "  Ecclesiastical  Year,"  of  course 
the  first  place  is  given  to  Holy  Week,  wliich  is  set  apart  to 
commemorate  the  events  of  our  Saviour's  last  week  on 
earth  : — beginning  with  Palm  Sunday,  which  recalls  his 
entrance  into  Jerusalem,  when  the  people  spread  palm 
branches  in  the  way — including  his  last  supper,  betrayal, 
and  crucifixion,  his  "  death  and  burial  " — and  ending  with 
Easter,  which  witnessed  his  resurrection.  This  last  event 
is  the  consummation  of  om-  Lord's  earthly  existence,  and 
of  course  it  is  celebrated,  with  all  the  events  leading  up  to 
it,  in  churches  in  which  there  is  a  great  deal  of  ceremony, 
with  every  ai*t  to  make  it  impressive.  It  was  to  witness 
this  display,  in  the  very  cradle  of  om-  religion,  that  we  had 
timed  our  visit  to  Jerusalem. 

But  if  one  would  see  the  full  pomp  of  religious  cere- 
monial, he  must  go  to  Rome  ;  or  rather,  he  should  have 
gone  in  the  old  days,  when  the  Pope  was  not  "  a  prisoner," 
and  could  appear  in  the  great  pageants  at  the  head  of  his 
court.  It  was  thii'ty-four  years  ago — in  1848,  the  year  of 
the  Revolutions — that  I  made  my  first  visit  to  Rome,  and 
spent  the  Holy  Week,  and  never  shall  I  forget  with  what 
pomp  it  was  ushered  in.  On  Palm  Sunday  the  Pope  was 
to  bless  palms  that  were  to  be  distributed  to  the  faithful, 
for  which  he  appeared  in  state.  I  was  standing  in  the 
Piazza  of  St.  Peter's,  in  a  great  crowd,  when  the  Supreme 
Pontiff  rode  up  in  a  coach  with  six  horses,  followed  by 
a  body  of  cavalry.  [What  a  contrast  to  his  Divine 
Master  when  he  came  from  Bethany,  descending  the  slope 
of  the  Mount  of  Olives,  with  no  brilhant  cortege,  but  simply 
riding  on  an  ass — the  meek  and  humble  Prince  of  Peace !] 


JERUSALEM    IN    HOLY    WEEK.  25 

He  was  carried  into  St.  Peter's  on  men's  shotdders,  and 
after  a  while  canied  out,  and  then  brought  in  again, 
and  then  can-ied  out  again !  The  Cardinals  advanced 
to  the  foot  of  the  throne,  arrayed  in  costly  silks  and 
furs,  and  knelt  to  kiss  his  robe  and  receive  the  palms 
which  he  blessed  ;  whUe  the  organ  pealed,  and  the  Pope's 
choir,  the  finest  in  Europe,  was  heard  through  every  arch 
and  aisle.  At  one  point,  when  the  voices  sank  low,  and 
seemed  as  if  wailing  over  the  Saviour's  dpng  agony,  the 
Swiss  Guards  fell  on  their  knees,  bringing  down  their 
arms  on  the  pavement  so  that  the  vast  Cathedral  rang 
again.  The  effect  may  be  imagined  of  a  scene  so  grand 
and  moiimful,  with  "  the  vast  and  wondrous  dome  "  above, 
and  the  kneeHng  crowds  below,  hushed  in  breathless  still- 
ness, while  over  them  swept  the  wailing  voices.  Such  a 
scene  could  not  be  witnessed  anywhere  on  eai^th  except  in 
Rome — in  St.  Peter's,  the  grandest  temple  ever  reared  by 
human  hands. 

To  such  pomp  as  this  poor  Jerusalem  can  make  no 
pretension.  And  yet  in  one  point  it  has  the  advantage  of 
Rome,  in  that  "  it  has  not  the  very  images  of  the  things, 
but  the  things  themselves."  One  is  near,  if  not  upon,  the 
very  spot  where  the  events  transpired  ;  and  in  so  far  the 
power  of  association  comes  in  strongly  to  aid  and  stimulate 
religious  devotion. 

Desiring  to  witness  at  least  the  beginning  of  the  im- 
posing services  of  Holy  Week,  I  was  in  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Sepulchre  at  six  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  Palm 
Sunday.  The  Vice-Consul,  with  his  cavass,  led  the  way  to 
the  first  gallery,  from  which  I  could  look  down  on  the 
whole  scene.  All  the  Christian  communions  in  Jerusalem 
were  present  in  gallant  array — Latins  and  Greeks  and  Ar- 
menians, Syrians  and  Copts — bishops  and  jsriests  bearing 
palm  branches,  such  as  were  spread  under  the  Master's 


2G  PALM    SUNDAY, 

feet  as  he  rode  down  yonder  hill  from  Bethany  on  his 
entry  into  Jerusalem.  To  make  a  more  perfect  repre- 
sentation of  the  original  scene,  the  children  sang  hosan- 
nas.  After  the  palm  branches  had  been  duly  blessed,  they 
were  passed  about  in  the  church  and  up  into  the  gallery, 
not  only  to  the  comfort  of  true  beHevers,  but  for  all  who 
chose  to  purchase.  An  hour  or  two  of  this  marching 
and  chanting  and  incensing,  sufficed  for  me,  though  the 
i:)rocessions  and  benedictions  were  not  ended  till  noon, 
But  so  soon  as  my  cimosity  was  satisfied,  I  left  the  church 
for  another  sei'vice,  which  seemed  to  me  more  in  harmony 
with  the  spirit  of  devotion.  The  Protestant  community 
in  Jerusalem  is  a  very  small  one,  yet  to-day  there  were 
strangers  from  all  parts  of  the  earth,  among  whom  were 
many  of  our  own  faith  and  language,  with  whom  it  was 
deHghtful  to  walk  to  the  house  of  God  in  company.  The 
EngHsh  church  on  Mount  Zion  was  filled,  as  it  is  only  in 
the  Holy  Week,  by  a  congregation  that  included  repre- 
sentatives even  from  the  antipodes.  A  bishop  from  New 
Zealand  preached  from  the  test  "And  when  he  was  come 
near,  he  beheld  the  city,  and  wept  over  it."  In  the  front 
pew,  under  the  pulpit,  sat  the  young  English  princes,  who, 
having  made  the  circuit  of  the  globe,  had  returned  by  way 
of  the  Red  Sea,  and  after  a  short  stay  in  Egypt,  had  come 
to  Jenisalem.  The  elder,  the  heir  to  the  throne,  who 
in  his  name,  Albert  Victor,  unites  the  names  of  both 
grandfather  and  grandmother,  is  tall  and  slender,  with 
very  much  the  figiire  that  his  father  had  when  he  visited 
America  in  18G0.  It  was  jileasant  to  see  him  joining  in 
the  singing,  and  responding  reverently  in  the  service, 
and  thus  conforming,  at  least  in  outward  respect,  to  the 
worship  of  the  Church  of  England,  of  which  he  is  to  be 
the  royal  head.  The  younger,  Prince  George  of  Wales, 
was  looking  about,  as  if  he  were  more  interested  in  the 


THE   ARMENIAN    PATRIARCH.  27 

congregation  than  in  the  service.  He  is  a  mere  boy,  but 
is  a  great  favorite  with  his  shipmates  for  his  brightness  and 
gayety.  When  the  service  was  ended,  the  princes  went  out 
first.  They  were  very  simply  dressed,  with  small,  slouched 
hats,  and  pantaloons  turned  up  to  keep  them  out  of  the 
mud.  So  far  as  one  covdd  judge  fi-om  mei'ely  seeing  them 
in  pubHc,  they  seemed  to  be  good  specimens  of  Young 
England,  and  certainly  produced  a  favorable  impression 
on  others  than  their  own  countrymen  by  their  absence  of 
pretension  and  unaffected  simplicity. 

With  Monday  we  were  rested,  and  in  a  mood  for  seeing 
the  sights  of  Jerusalem,  or  attending  the  services  of  Holy 
Week.  Our  first  visit  was  to  the  Armenian  Convent.  The 
principal  bmldings  of  the  modern  Jenisalem  are  those 
erected  by  difierent  Christian  communions  for  their  breth- 
ren in  the  holy  city.  K  there  are  no  f)rinces  in  Jerusalem, 
the  patriarchs  may  be  considered  as  j)rinces,  and  the  con- 
vents are  their  palaces.  The  Ai'menian  Convent  covers 
many  acres  of  ground,  like  one  of  the  great  ecclesiastical 
houses  of  Europe  ;  and  includes  within  its  ample  walls  not 
only  the  Convent  propei',  or  Monasteiy,  but  the  residence 
of  the  patriarch,  and  of  the  attending  priests,  who  form 
around  him  a  kind  of  ecclesiastical  court,  and  also  places 
for  the  reception  and  entertainment  of  the  annual  pil- 
grims. Dr.  Post  wished  to  take  me  to  the  Convent  to 
introduce  me  to  the  Patriarch,  of  whom  he  spoke  as  not 
only  an  acquaintance,  but  a  personal  friend,  which  I  could 
weU  believe  when  I  saw  the  way  in  which  they  fell  into 
each  other's  arms  and  embraced  in  true  Oriental  style. 
The  Patriarch  Hves  in  a  good  deal  of  state,  as  becomes  one 
whose  authority  extends  over  one  of  the  largest  Chiistian 
bodies  in  the  East.  As  he  did  not  speak  English  nor 
French,  nor  even  Arabic,  but  only  Tui-kish  and  Armenian, 
we  had  to  converse  with  him  through  an  interpreter.     But 


28  THE    AKMEXIAX    PATRIARCH. 

no  barrier  of  language  could  intercept  the  wannth  of  his 
welcome.  He  was  extremely  coui-teous,  and  offered  us  the 
hospitality  of  his  Convent,  wishing  us  to  be  his  guests  for 
weeks.  It  was  almost  embarrassing  to  receive  this  press- 
ing invitation  from  one  whose  graciousness  of  manner  was 
heightened  by  a  charming  presence,  which  made  it  hardly 
possible  to  refuse  him.  I  felt  that  he  was  made  to  be  an 
ecclesiastical  dignitarj'.  His  form  was  portly  ;  his  face  be- 
nignant ;  nor  could  there  be  a  finer  figure-head  to  appear 
in  great  ecclesiastical  ceremonies,  or  to  lead  the  processions 
in  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepidchre.  I  cannot  say  that 
"  On  his  brow  deliberation  sat, 
And  public  care  "  : 

for  indeed  he  seemed  to  have  an  eas}^  time  of  it,  while 
he  was  receiving  the  homage  of  the  faithful,  and  bestow- 
ing his  benediction.  As  we  rose  to  take  leave,  he  ac- 
companied us  into  the  church,  and  had  its  treasures,  in- 
cluding his  own  jewels  and  costly  vestments,  brought  out 
for  ovir  inspection  ;  and  when  we  took  our  departure,  he 
sprinkled  us,  according  to  an  Oriental  custom,  with  rose- 
water.  Hardly  had  we  returned  to  our  hotel  before  a 
monk  followed  us,  bearing  a  tray  loaded  with  sweetmeats ! 
What  a  dainty  thing  it  is  to  be  a  Patriarch,  scattering 
smiles,  distributing  bon-bons,  and  sprinkling  rose-water! 
But  I  would  not  give  the  impression  that  he  has  no  higher 
ideas  of  his  holy  office.  His  covu'tesy  does  not  prevent 
his  being  a  zealous  bishop  of  his  large  flock.  It  is  said 
that  he  preaches  to  the  jiilgi-ims  of  his  creed,  who  come  to 
Jerusalem  (sometimes  two  or  three  thousand  take  up  their 
quarters  in  the  Convent)  with  great  plainness  and  fidehty. 
Thus  his  character  commands  respect,  while  his  welcome 
was  of  the  sort  that  leaves  a  grateful  feeling  behind  it. 
He  seemed  to  wish  to  keep  me  in  memory,  by  requesting 
my  photograph,  which   of  course   I  blushingly  declined. 


THE   JEWS   m   JERUSALEM.  29 

Dr.  Post,  however,  appropriated  it,  and  sent  it  to  liini ; 
and  lie  returned  the  compHment  by  sending  me  his  own 
handsome  face,  with  his  autograph,  and  a  rosary  which  he 
had  blessed,  and  which  I  keep,  not  for  any  mysterious 
virtue  that  it  possesses,  but  as  a  memento  of  an  accom- 
plished dignitary  of  his  Church. 

Jenisalem  is  a  city  of  many  races  and  many  religions. 
If  the  degree  of  devotion  is  to  be  judged  by  the  multi- 
phcity  of  faiths  and  forms  of  worship,  it  must  take  high 
rank  among  cities,  because  of  the  religions  which  it  em- 
braces in  such  number  and  variety.  Here  one  may  find 
the  Jew  in  his  synagogue,  and  the  Moslem  in  his  mosque  ; 
while  the  Christian  community  is  divided  between  Latins 
and  Greeks,  Armenians,  Sj-rians,  and  Copts,  the  increase 
to  the  population  from  travellers  only  adding  to  the  con- 
fusion, as  it  is  made  up  of  representatives  of  all  the  sects 
of  Europe  and  America. 

Yet  though  the  forms  of  religion  be  so  many,  Judaism 
is  the  mother  of  them  all,  and  it  is  largely  represented  in  its 
ancient  capital.  One  quarter  of  the  city  is  set  apart  for  the 
Jews,  who  come  here  fi-om  all  parts  of  the  world,  and  form 
a  community  by  themselves.  Generally  they  are  poor,  and 
are  supported  by  the  liberality  of  their  richer  brethren  in 
Europe.  They  crowd  together  in  the  narrow  streets  on 
Mount  Zion,  and  may  easily  be  distinguished,  not  only  by 
their  peculiar  physiognomies,  but  by  their  long  gabardines 
and  fur  caps,  from  under  which  corkscrew  cm-Is,  falling 
down  their  cheeks,  give  their  faces  a  feminine  and  affected 
appearance.  But  one  cannot  look  without  respect  on  the 
representatives  of  an  ancient  race  and  ancient  worship. 
I  was  in  a  reverential  mood  when  I  was  presented  to  the 
Chief  Kabbi,  a  venerable  old  gentleman,  though  not  wear- 
ing the  majestic  air,  any  more  than  the  sweeping  robes,  of 
the  High  Priest  of  the   ancient   Temple.      We  visited  a 


30  CELEBRATIOX    OF   THE   PASSOVER. 

number  of  the  synagogues,  some  of  which  are  very  ancient 
One  or  two  of  them  may  have  been  standing — or  their 
predecessors  on  the  same  sites — in  the  time  of  our  Saviour. 
It  was  not  the  hour  of  sei'vdce,  and  but  a  few  Israehtes 
were  present,  who  were  sitting  about  tables  reading  out  of 
the  books  of  the  law,  or  of  Ezra  or  Nehemiah,  or  other 
prophets.  Such  is  theu*  reverence  for  the  law  that  they 
have  the  Ten  Commandments  engraved  on  silver,  and  bind 
it  as  a  frontlet  on  their  foreheads,  or  on  a  silver  scroll  and 
embedded  in  the  door-posts,  which  they  kiss  as  they  pass, 
as  a  devout  Catholic  dips  his  fingers  in  holy  water.  But  I 
did  not  observe  in  the  synagogues  the  silent  prayer  and 
apjDearance  of  deep  devotion  which  one  so  often  sees  in 
Catholic  churches  and  cathedi'als. 

Still  more  interesting  was  it  to  witness  the  celebration 
of  the  Passover,  for  which  we  were  taken  to  one  of  the 
chief  hospitals  in  Jerusalem.  Of  course  the  Hebrews 
whom  we  saw  here  were  not  of  the  highest  social  position  ; 
they  were  aU  poor,  or  aged,  or  infirm,  of  a  condition  which 
made  them  fit  inmates  of  an  hospital.  But  their  poverty 
did  not  aliate  their  national  joride  or  religious  zeal,  or  the 
fervor  with  which  they  entered  into  the  ceremony.  One 
who  has  anything  of  the  historical  spiiit  cannot  fail  to 
be  interested  in  a  festival  which  dates  back,  not  like  our 
Thanksgiving,  to  the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims  less  than 
three  centuiies  ago,  but  to  an  event  more  than  thirty 
centuries  old — to  that  fatal  night  when  the  angel  of  the 
Lord  passed  thi'ough  the  land  of  Egypt  and  smote  the 
first-bom,  and  the  Israelites,  who  sprinkled  blood  on  the 
door-posts  of  their  houses,  were  passed  by. 

The  attendants  were  gi-ouped  about  a  long  table,  at 
which  they  read  the  account  of  the  original  Passover,  and 
passages  fi-om  the  Psalms  and  the  Prophets.  I  observed 
that  they  did  not  read  in  Hebrew,  but  in  Sj)anish,  and 


CELEBRATION  OF  THE  PASSOVER.       31 

learned  that  a  large  part  of  the  Jews  in  Jerusalem  are 
from  Spain,  who  with  the  Jews  fi'om  Germany  and 
Poland,  make  uj)  the  great  body  of  their  race  who  are 
here.  The  Spanish  Jews  are  of  a  superior  class  to  the 
wretched  wanderers  from  the  North  of  Europe,  who  have 
found  their  way  back  to  Jerusalem  to  die.  Their  reading 
was  relieved  at  intervals  by  partaking  of  a  repast  set 
before  them,  which,  though  it  was  of  a  rude  simplicity, 
(unleavened  bread  and  a  platter  of  bitter  herbs,)  as  if 
prepai'ed  in  haste  for  an  army  in  flight,  was  ample  in 
quantity,  and  of  which  they  partook  with  hearty  appetites, 
especially  as  this  fnigal  fare  was  made  palatable  by  abun- 
dant potations,  "v\T.th  which  it  is  a  custom, 

"  More  honored  in  the  breach  than  the  observance," 

to  refresh  themselves  very  freely.  A  Catholic  priest  once 
quoted  to  me  with  relish  the  sajong  of  a  devout  Irishman, 
W'ho  wished  to  express  his  gi-atitude  for  the  mode  of 
observance  of  one  of  the  appointed  fasts  of  the  Church  : 
"  Blessin's  on  the  Council  o'  Trint,  that  it  put  the  fastin' 
on  the  mate,  an'  not  on  the  dhrink !  "  These  pious  Hebrews 
seemed  to  be  of  the  same  mind,  so  that  I  was  not  much 
surprised  to  be  told  that  the  feast  not  seldom  ended — as 
what  are  profanely  called  Chiistian  feasts  and  festivals  some- 
times end — by  leaving  the  celebrants  helpless  on  the  floor ! 
But  one  does  not  feel  like  bringing  an  accusation 
against  a  i:)eo2)le  that  ai'e  so  jioor  and  wretched.  In  visit- 
ing their  hospitals  and  theu'  schools,  I  was  glad  to  see  that 
they  were  not  forgotten  by  the  rich  Hebrew  bankers  and 
other  wealthy  Jews  in  the  capitals  of  Europe.  The  Roths- 
childs and  Sir  Moses  Montefiore  esijecially,  have  distin- 
guished themselves  by  their  generous  liberality  towards 
their  brethren.  One  must  rejoice  in  anj-thing  thus  done 
for  a  people  and  a  city  which  are  dear  alike  to  every  Jewish 
and  everv  Christian  heart  throuarhout  the  world. 


32  THE    MOSQUE    OF    OMAR, 

The  Moslem  worship  is  more  imposing  than  the  Jewish. 
I  can  never  hear  unmoved  the  cry  of  the  muezzin  from  the 
minaret  which  calls  the  faithful  to  prayer,  or  see  the  robed 
figures  turned  towards  Mecca,  and  bowed  to  the  earth. 
The  Moslems  are  masters  of  Jemsalem,  and  of  all  the 
sacred  sites  of  the  Holy  City.  Even  the  place  where  stood 
the  Temple  of  Solomon,  is  now  occupied  by  the  Mosque  of 
Omar.  It  is  but  a  few  jears  since  all  access  was  sternly 
forbidden  ;  no  Christian  coidd  enter  except  at  the  risk  of 
his  life.  When  Dean  Stanley  first  visited  Jerusalem,  he 
could  see  into  the  Temple  area  only  fi-om  the  Mount  of 
Ohves,  or  fi'om  some  other  high  point  which  looked  down 
upon  it.  But  even  though  he  had  to  sketch  from  a  distance, 
yet  never  was  the  picture  more  perfectly  drawn  than  by 
the  hand  of  this  consummate  artist.  Speaking  of  the 
Mosque  of  Omar,  and  the  eflect  of  grandeur  it  gives  to 
Jerusalem,  he  says  : 

"  From  whatever  point  that  graceful  dome,  with  its  beautiful 
precinct,  emerges  to  view,  it  at  once  dignifies  the  whole  city.  And 
when  from  Olivet,  or  from  the  Governor's  house,  or  from  the  north- 
east wall,  you  see  the  platform  on  which  it  stands,  it  is  a  scene 
hardly  to  be  surpassed.  A  dome  graceful  as  that  of  St.  Peter's, 
though  of  course  on  a  far  smaller  scale,  rising  from  an  elabo- 
rately-finished circular  edifice;  this  edifice  raised  on  a  square 
marble  platform,  rising  on  the  highest  ridge  of  a  green  slope, 
which  descends  from  it  north,  south,  and  east,  to  the  walls  sur- 
rounding the  whole  enclosure ;  platform  and  enclosure  diversified 
by  lesser  domes  and  fountains,  by  cypresses  and  olives  and  planes 
and  palms ;  the  whole  as  secluded  and  quiet  as  the  interior  of 
some  college  or  cathedral  garden,  only  enlivened  by  the  white 
figures  of  veiled  women  stealing  like  ghosts  up  and  down  the 
green  slope,  or  by  the  turbaned  heads  bowed  low  in  the  various 
niches  for  prayer.  This  is  the  Mosque  of  Omar ;  the  Haram  es- 
Sherif,  '  the  noble  sanctuary  ' ;  the  second  most  sacred  spot  in  tho 
Mahometan  world— that  is,  the  next  after  Mecca ;  the  second  most 
beautiful  mosque — that  is,  the  next  after  Cordova." 

This  picture  so  beautiful  he  could  only  see  at  a  distance  ; 


THK    MOSQUE    OF    OMAR.  33 

this  enclosure  he  was  not  permitted  to  enter.    But  he  partly 
consoles  himself  for  it  by  saying : 

"  I  for  one  felt  almost  disposed  to  console  myself  for  the  exclu- 
sion by  the  additional  interest  which  the  sight  derives  from  the 
knowledge  that  no  European  foot,  except  by  stealth  or  favor,  had 
ever  trodden  within  these  precincts  since  the  Crusaders  were  driven 
out,  and  that  their  deep  seclusion  was  as  real  as  it  appeared.  It 
needed  no  sight  of  the  daggers  of  the  black  dervishes,  who  stand 
at  the  gate,  to  tell  you  that  the  Mosque  was  undisturbed  and  invi- 
olably sacred." 

But  now  the  daggers  of  the  black  dervishes  are 
sheathed,  and  though  there  may  be  scowling  faces  and 
muttered  curses,  still  the  gates  which  for  six  centuries 
were  shut  in  the  face  of  the  whole  Christian  world,  are 
thrown  open,  and  we  may  enter  the  precincts  which  till 
recently  were  "  in\iolably  sacred."  We  did  not  have  to 
disguise  ourselves  in  Oriental  costume,  but  wore  our 
customary  Frank  di-ess,  and  walked  in  openly,  "  no  man 
forbidding  us  "  ;  and  when  we  came  to  the  Mosque  itself, 
not  only  were  the  doors  open,  but  the  old  custodian,  with 
backsheesh  in  his  eye,  received  us  with  a  suppleness 
and  graciousness  that  were  truly  Oriental.  Here  is  that 
famous  rock,  covered  by  the  dome  of  the  Mosque  of 
Omar,  which  has  so  puzzled  antiquarians — whether  it  be 
the  rock  on  which  Abraham  bound  Isaac  for  the  sacrifice, 
or  the  threshing-floor  of  Oman  the  Jebusite,  where  the 
plague  was  stayed.  Fortunately  the  identity  of  the 
Temple  area  has  never  been  doubted.  True,  there  is  a 
question  as  to  the  exact  spot  in  it  on  which  stood  the 
Temple  of  Solomon,  some  placing  it  on  the  very  site  of  the 
Mosque  of  Omar,  others  on  that  of  the  Mosque  of  Aksa  in 
one  comer  of  the  large  enclosure.  There  is  also  a  ques- 
tion whether  any  part  of  the  substinictui'c  remains  from 
the  time  of  Solomon.  Sir  Charles  Wilson,  who  made  the 
Ordnance  Survey,  the  results  of  which   have   been  pub- 


34  STONES    OF   THE    TEMPLE. 

lislied  by  the  English  Government  in  several  large 
volumes,  is  now  in  Jerusalem,  and  tells  me  that  he  can 
find  nothing  earlier  than  the  time  of  Herod.  Captain 
"Warren,  however,  gives  an  earlier  date  to  the  lower 
coui'ses  of  Cyclopean  masonry  in  tlie  eastern  wall,  and  to 
the  huge  foundation-stones  at  Kobinson's  Arch  and  the 
Place  of  Wailing,  which  he  assigns  to  the  time  of  Solomon. 
But  even  if  they  were  of  the  architecture  of  Herod,  they 
were  standing  in  the  time  of  Chiist,  so  that  the  Temple 
area  was  substantially  then  as  now.  All  this  ground  was 
familiar  to  the  ejea  and  to  the  feet  of  our  Lord.  Here  he 
stood  and  cried  (perhaps  seeing  the  libations  of  water 
brought  in  a  golden  vessel  from  Siloam),  "  If  any  man 
thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me  and  drink."  Here  was  one 
of  the  strong  jiositions  in  the  defence  of  Jerusalem,  into 
which  burst  the  army  of  Titus  on  the  fearful  night  that  the 
city  was  taken,  when  a  soldier,  iu  violation  of  the  express 
order  of  his  commander,  threw  a  torch  into  the  Temple  ; 
and  suddenly  the  captured  city  and  the  encircling  hills, 
and  the  sky  itself,  were  illumined  by  the  mighty  conflagra- 
tion. In  that  flame  and  smoke  went  down  the  hope  of 
Israel  for  centviries,  and  perhaps  for  millenniums. 

But  the  great  interest  of  Jemsalem  during  the  Holy 
Week,  is  neither  Jewish  nor  Moslem,  but  Christian.  While 
we  have  been  making  the  circuit  of  the  walls,  or  visiting 
mosques  or  s^magogues,  the  crowd  of  pilgi'ims  within  the 
gates  has  been,  day  after  day,  surging  towards  one  sacred 
spot — the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  within  Avhich  are 
witnessed  the  grand  ceremonies  at  this  season  of  the  Chris- 
tian year.     But  this  is  a  subject  by  itself. 


CHAPTER  m. 

THE    CHURCH    OF   THE    HOLY    SEPULCHRE FEET- 
WASHING   BY    THE    GREEK    PATRIARCH. 

Standing  on  the  top  of  the  Tower  of  David,  and  look- 
ing down  upon  Jerusalem,  one  sees  lying  almost  in  the 
heart  of  the  city  an  ancient  architectural  pile,  whose  dome 
covers  the  holiest  skrine  in  the  Christian  world.  This  is 
the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  which  includes  within 
its  walls  both  the  rock  of  Calvary,  on  which  our  Lord  was 
crucified,  and  the  tomb  in  which  his  body  was  laid,  and 
from  which  he  rose  on  the  third  day.  I  am  well  aware  of 
the  disputes  as  to  the  identity  of  these  sites.  Certainly 
this  could  not  have  been  the  place  of  the  Crucifixion,  if  it 
was  always,  as  now,  in  the  heart  of  the  city  :  for  Jesus  went 
forth  bearing  his  cross,  and  suffered  without  the  gate. 
And  yet,  in  spite  of  aU  objections.  Col.  Wilson,  the  American 
Consul,  who  has  been  here  for  several  years,  and  made  a 
study  of  the  question,  is  very  positive  in  his  conviction  that 
the  sites  are  genuine,  and  that  Calvary  and  the  Sepulchre 
are  both  properly  included  in  the  same  enclosure.  Many 
others,  whose  opinions  are  at  least  worthy  of  respect,  agree 
with  him.  Further  than  stating  what  theij  think,  I  have  no 
disposition  to  go  :  for  however  the  balance  of  probabilities 


36  CHURCH    OF   THE    HOLY   SEPULCHRE. 

may  seem  to  incline  one  way  or  the  other,  it  must  be  very 
unsatisfactory'  to  discuss  a  question  which  cannot  be 
definitely  settled  till  farther  explorations  have  determined 
the  exact  position  of  the  second  wall  of  Jeinisalem. 

Perhaps  the  increduHty  would  not  be  so  great  if  the 
difficulties  were  not  multiiDhed  by  the  multiplication  of 
sites  :  for  not  only  is  the  place  of  Calvary  fixed  here,  and 
of  the  Sejjulchi'e,  but  all  of  the  minor  sites  that  can  be  in 
any  way  connected  with  these,  each  of  which  is  identified 
with  the  utmost  precision  :  such  as  the  very  spot  where  our 
Lord  was  mocked  ;  where  he  was  scourged,  with  a  frag- 
ment of  the  column  to  which  he  was  bovmd  ;  where  he  was 
nailed  to  the  cross  ;  where  the  soldiers  cast  lots  for  his  rai- 
ment, and  the  women  anointed  his  body  ;  the  stone  which 
was  rolled  from  the  door  of  the  Sepulchre,  and  on  which 
the  angel  sat ;  and  the  spot  where  Christ  appeared  to  Mary 
Magdalene.  Thus  at  every  step  one  finds  some  new  site, 
tin  the  Church  becomes  a  kind  of  sacred  museum,  in  which 
objects  the  most  diverse  are  gathered  together.  It  seems 
highl}^  improbable  that  even  its  broad  roof  could  cover  so 
many  spots  of  sacred  interest.  The  number  is  too  great 
to  be  included  even  within  its  ample  walls.  It  could  hardly 
be  explained  except  on  the  theory  of  miraculous  interposi- 
tion, that  all  these  sites  should  be  gi-ouped  in  one  circum- 
ference ;  and  the  attempt  to  bring  them  together  tlu^ows 
an  air  of  suspicion  over  the  whole,  as  if  it  were  all  a  monk- 
ish fable  and  superstition. 

Some  are  so  shocked  and  disgusted  at  the  fables  that 
are  told  of  these  "  holy  places,"  that  they  cannot  visit  with 
pleasure  any  spot  which  tradition  has  invested  with  sacred- 
ness,  because  of  the  superstitious  fancies  and  follies  with 
which  it  is  sure  to  be  connected.  Even  my  dear  Dr.  Post 
feels  this  so  strongly  that  he  turns  away  from  holy  shrines 
with  an   instinct  of  aversion,  as  from  impostures  which 


CHURCH    OF   THE    HOLY    SEPULCHRE.  37 

in  many  cases  are  so  gross  that  no  pains  are  taken  at 
concealment. 

But  for  my  part,  I  am  not  careful  to  answer  in  these 
things,  for  if  that  which  is  assumed  be  not  established — 
even  if  the  identity  be  more  than  doubtful — still  there  is 
an  association  which  of  itself  gives  interest  to  the  spot, 
and  a  great  power  over  the  imagination.  A  church  which 
the  tradition  of  the  whole  Christian  world  for  sixteen 
hundi-ed  years  has  accepted  as  the  place  of  burial  of  our 
Lord — for  the  possession  of  which  great  wars  have  been 
waged — is  at  least  a  historical  monument  of  the  deepest 
interest.  The  Crusades  were  undertaken  to  recover  the 
Holy  Sepulchre,  which  was  beheved  to  be  within  the  walls 
of  this  church.  A  sanctuary  to  recover  which  Europe  and 
the  East  were  at  war  for  a  century,  must  be  regarded  as 
one  of  the  historical  buildings  of  the  world,  and  cannot  be 
approached  without  a  feehng  of  veneration. 

But  more  than  that,  it  has  not  only  historical  interest, 
but  religious  interest.  Whether  it  be  the  spot  of  our 
Lord's  entombment,  or  no,  yet  the  very  belief  invests  it 
with  a  tender  interest.  The  association  makes  it  sacred  ; 
it  has  been  consecrated  by  the  faith  and  hope,  by 
the  tears  and  prayers,  of  generations.  As  such  I  enter 
it  with  a  feeling  of  reverence,  if  not  of  devotion,  and 
stand  with  uncovered  head  amid  the  throng  of  kneeling 
worshippers. 

Although  the  Holy  Week  begins  with  Palm  Sunday, 
the  more  impressive  seiTices  do  not  commence  till  Thurs- 
day, the  anniversary  of  that  last  Passover  which  our  Lord 
kept  with  his  disciples  the  evening  before  his  death.  His 
betrayal  by  Judas  on  that  night  was  the  beginning  of  his 
"  Passion,"  which  gives  Holy  Week  the  name  of  Passion 
Week.  From  tliis  moment  the  interest  deepens  as  the 
scene   darkens.     The   dai-kness   deepens  till  the  Lord  of 


427876 


38  THE    WASHING    OF    FEET 

glory  expires,  when  it  is  the  midnight  of  the  workl  ;  and 
this  darkness  hangs  Kke  a  pall  over  the  eailh  till  the 
morning  of  the  third  day,  when  as  the  sun  rises  in  the 
East,  the  Son  of  Man  rises  from  the  tomb.  Thus  within 
three  days  the  mind  passes  —  as  did  the  minds  of  the 
disciples  when  waiting  in  feai'ful  susjiense  —  from  the 
depths  of  despair  to  the  height  of  joy. 

Thui'sday  morning  I  had  gone  to  the  American  Consul's 
to  listen  to  the  chain  of  proofs  wh:'ch  he  had  kindly  oft'ered 
to  give  me,  for  the  faith  that  is  in  him  in  regard  to  the 
identity  of  the  principal  sites  in  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre.  He  is  a  full  believer,  and  supports  his  position 
with  an  array  of  learning  which  I  was  quite  unable,  even 
if  I  had  been  disposed,  to  answer.  [He  afterwards  went 
with  me  to  the  Church  itself,  and  to  the  Porta  Judiciaria, 
on  the  Via  Dolorosa,  to  point  out  local  indications  which 
satisfied  him  of  the  truth  of  his  position.] 

While  listening  to  this  most  interesting  explanation, 
Dr.  Post  came  in  haste  to  bid  me  come  instantly  to  see  the 
crowd  gathering  to  witness  the  Washing  of  Feet  by  the 
Greek  Patriarch.  This  is  one  of  the  sights  of  Holy  Week 
in  Jerusalem  that  must  not  be  omitted.  We  hastened 
across  the  street,  and  down  the  steps  into  the  court,  where 
we  found  a  great  concourse  in  a  state  of  excite:rDeat,  in 
which  there  was  apparently  more  of  curiosity  than  of  devo- 
tion. Not  only  was  the  open  space  packed  with  a  dense 
mass  of  human  beings,  but  the  roofs  of  the  adjoining  build- 
ings were  covered  ;  every  window  was  full  of  eager  faces  ; 
indeed  swarthy  fellows,  with  strong  hands  and  nimble  feet, 
were  climbing  to  every  capstone  or  projecting  bit  of  wall 
on  which  a  monkey  could  sit,  to  look  down  on  the  strange 
scene.  In  the  centre  of  the  open  square  was  a  raised  plat- 
form occupied  by  a  dozen  priests  or  pilgrims,  who  were 
waiting,  not  apparently  in  a  mood  of  devotion,  but  in  that 


BY   THE    GREEK    PATRIARCH.  39 

fititter  of  excitement  which  may  be  seen  round  the  galleries 
at  Yale  or  HaiTard  on  Commencement  Day.  It  "was  a 
grand  spectacle,  in  which  they  were  actors,  and  they 
enjoyed  for  their  little  hour  being  made  conspicuous. 
After  long  waiting  a  stir  in  the  crowd  announced  the  ap- 
proach of  the  Greek  Patriarch,  who,  with  all  the  pomp  and 
dignity  of  Eastern  ceremonial,  in  vestments  covered  with 
gold  and  fairly  weighted  with  jewels,  was  ushered  to  his 
seat,  where  he  appeared  as  our  Lord,  while  "  the  twelve  " 
who  sat  round  him  personated  the  Apostles.  In  this  sacred 
drama  each  one  had  his  separate  part.  It  was  easy  to 
distinguish  John,  the  beloved  disciple,  as  he  leaned  on  the 
bosom  of  his  Lord.  All  these  tender  scenes,  best  imagined 
in  the  shades  of  evening,  in  the  stiU  upper  room,  were 
dragged  into  the  garish  light  of  day,  to  be  made  a  spectacle 
to  the  gaping  multitude.  When  it  came  to  the  feet-wash- 
ing, the  Patriarch,  laying  aside  his  costly  vestments,  girded 
himself  with  a  towel,  in  imitation  of  his  Divine  Master,  and 
began  to  wash  the  feet  of  those  who  represented  the  Apos- 
tles— and  not  only  washed  them,  but  kissed  them !  "WTien 
he  came  to  Peter,  that  ardent  and  impulsive,  but  somewhat 
refractory,  Apostle  went  into  frantic  demonstrations,  as  if 
he  would  forbid  such  an  act  of  humiliation  on  the  part  of 
his  Lord — a  resistance  which  was  at  last  overcome,  and  he 
yielded  with  well-feigned  reluctance. 

When  ail  was  over,  the  Patriarch  retu-ed  to  his  Convent 
to  rest  after  his  fatigues.  An  hour  or  two  later  we  called 
by  appointment  for  an  interview,  and  were  told  that  "  His 
Beatitude "  was  taking  his  repose.  However,  he  soon 
awoke  from  his  slumbers,  and  appeared  in  his  gi-and  salon, 
smiling  and  gracious.  Of  com'se  aJl  well-bred  travellers 
treat  him  with  the  respect  due  to  his  high  office  ;  but  I 
could  not  quite  repress  a  secret  thought  that  it  was  a  little 
Dut  oi  character  for  one  who  had  taken  the  chief  part  in 


40  THE    GREEK    PATRIARCH. 

such  sacred  scenes,  to  be  making  pleasant  speeches  to  the 
ladies,  and  clinkinp^  glasses  with  the  gentlemen ! 

After  the  intei'view,  we  walked  in  the  garden,  among 
the  orange  trees,  and  thought  what  "  a  sweet  thing  "  it  was 
to  be  a  Patriarch,  Avith  no  childi-en  to  look  after,  unless  he 
regards  as  such  the  members  of  his  spiritual  household. 
And  if  any  of  them  appear  unrvily,  they  are  easily  disposed 
of  :  for  not  far  away  is  the  Convent  of  Mar  Saba,  to  which 
a  tui'bulent  ecclesiatic  can  be  "advised"  to  retire  for 
meditation  and  prayer  ;  and  if  a  longer  withdrawal  from 
the  world  be  thought  for  his  spiritual  benefit,  he  may  be 
counselled  to  follow  the  example  of  Paul,  and  spend  three 
years  in  Arabia,  among  the  clifis  of  Sinai.  I  could  not  for- 
get our  old  friend,  the  Archimandrite  of  Jerusalem,  at  the 
Convent  of  St.  Catherine,  who,  I  doubt  not,  is  there  yet, 
and  will  remain  so  long  as  "  His  Beatitude  "  may  think 
best  to  keep  him  there.  The  sleek  Patriarch  is  a  perfect 
autocrat  in  his  spiritual  dominion,  and  can  banish  at  his 
wOl  any  wretched  priest  or  monk  who  may  incvir  his  dis- 
pleasiu-e.  It  seemed  uncharitable  to  think  that  this  smil- 
ing old  man  might  conceal  under  his  soft  raiment  a  heart 
as  hard  and  ciniel  as  ever  sent  a  heretic  to  the  prison  of 
the  Inquisition.  I  say  not  that  it  is  so  ;  he  may  be  a  very 
kind-hearted  man.  But  there  is  nothing  in  his  position  to 
prevent  his  playing  the  tyrant  as  fully  as  any  Tiirkish 
j^asha.  Here  is  the  danger  of  ecclesiastical  power  :  it  is 
the  paw  of  the  lion,  soft  to  the  touch,  but  -svith  a  terrible 
gripe  to  crush  and  to  destroy. 

"Wliat  a  contrast  to  this  scene  was  the  commiinion  at 
the  Enghsh  chiu'ch,  which  is  always  celebrated  on  Thurs- 
day evening  of  Holy  Week — "  the  same  night  in  which  he 
was  betrayed."  It  was  a  help  to  our  thoughts  that  we  had 
just  paid  a  visit  to  the  Coenaculum,  which  is  on  Mount 
Zion,  and  not  far  away,  the  chamber  in  which,  according 


THE  NIGHT  IN  AVHICH  HE  WAS  BETRAYED.        t\ 

to  tradition,  our  Lord  kept  his  last  Passover  with  hva. 
disciples.  It  may  indeed  be  on  the  site,  but  certainly  this 
pillared  hall  is  not  the  "  upper  room  "  :  for  it  is  in  a  style 
of  architecture  unknown  in  the  time  of  our  Saviour.  The 
arches  which  support  the  ceiling  are  not  Roman,  but 
Gothic,  giving  the  room  the  appearance  of  a  monks' 
refectory  in  an  old  English  abbey.  This  indicates  that  it 
is  of  a  date  not  earlier  than  the  time  of  the  Crusaders. 
Still  a  visit  which  recalled  the  event  could  not  but  deepen 
the  impression  of  the  service  that  was  to  follow.  Listening 
to  the  reading  of  the  account  of  the  oiiginal  institution, 
we  seemed  to  hear  the  Master's  voice  saying  "Do  this  in 
remembrance  of  me."  After  an  earnest  discourse  by 
another  Australian  bishop,  the  communion  was  cele- 
brated ;  and  it  was  a  touching  thought  that  we  were 
pai'taking  of  the  Last  Supper  in  Jenisalem  on  the  very 
night  on  which  our  Lord  was  betrayed,  and  not  far  from 
the  spot  where  he  sat  down  with  the  twelve. 

After  the  sei'vice  in  the  chiu-ch.  Dean  Howson  of 
Chester  (so  well  known  in  America  by  the  admii'able 
work,  Conybeare  and  Howson's  Life  and  Travels  of  St. 
Paul)  and  a  few  others  went  out  to  the  Mount  of  OHves, 
and  there — a  little  above  the  enclosed  Garden  of  Geth- 
semane,  and  nearer,  as  they  thought,  to  the  exact  spot, 
under  some  ancient  olives — read  the  story  of  Christ's 
agony  in  the  Garden,  and  knelt  and  prayed  where  he  had 
prayed  before  them.  It  was  a  moment  long  to  be  remem- 
bered. Who  that  has  once  heard  can  ever  forget  how 
Antoinette  SterUng  used  to  sing 

"  'Tis  midnight,  and  on  Olive's  brow 

The  star  is  dimmed  that  lately  shone ; 
'Tis  midnight,  and  on  Olive's  brow 
The  suffering  Saviour  prays  alone"  ? 

Such  memories  now  returned  with  the  place  and  the 


42  CELEBRATION    OF    GOOD    FRIDAY. 

hour.  It  was  a  strange,  weird  scene,  the  lights  shining 
through  the  trees,  recalling  that  night  when  Judas  and  the 
band  of  soldiers  came  "with  lanterns"  along  this  same 
slope.  Just  as  they  closed  their  service,  the  fuU  moon — 
the  Paschal  moon — rose  above  the  crest  of  Olivet,  and 
shone  down  into  the  VaUey  of  the  Kedron,  and  on  the  gray 
old  wjdls  of  the  city  bej'ond. 

Good  Friday  is   celebrated    in   a  manner  peculiarly 
Oriental.     It  is  natural  that  the  hearts  of  devout  pilgiims 
should  be  stirred  at  finding  themselves  on  the  very  day  of 
the  Crucifixion  on  the  spot  where  it  took  place,  and  that 
they  should  desire  to  recall  in  some  impressive  form  a 
scene  so  grand  and  awful.     But  the  method  taken  is  more 
fitted  to  dispel  than  to  deepen  the  impression  of  solemnity. 
It  is  a  kind  of  "Passion  Play,"  which  is  so  forced  and 
unnatui'al  that  it  has  not  at  aU  the  pathos  of  that  at  Ober- 
Ammergau,  where  the  mournful  scenes  are  depicted  by 
simple  and  devout  peasants  amid  the  sombre  surroundings 
of  the  Bavarian  Alps.    There  it  is  a  man  who  personates  the 
Chiist,  and  who  is  lifted  on  the  cross  in  an  attitude  which 
shows  extreme  bodily  tension  and  suffering,  from  which 
he  is  often  taken  doAvn  in  a  swoon.     But  here  there  is  no 
quivering  flesh  and  blood,  but  only  a  wooden  figure,  which 
is  mocked  and  scourged,  and  into  which  are  driven  the 
nails,  and  which  is  then  lifted  upon  the  cross,  and  after- 
wai'ds  taken  down  and  borne  to  the  "  Stone  of  Unction " 
to  be  anointed  for  burial,  and  placed  in  the  sepvdchi-e. 
The  effect  may  be  imagined  in  a  chiu'ch  filled  Avith  a  dense 
crowd,  whose  upturned  faces  are  eager  and  excited.     At 
each  pause  in  the  tragic  scene  a  brief  sermon  is  dehvered, 
so  that  in  the  whole  there  are  half  a  dozen  in  as  many 
different  languages.      Such  a  mingling  of  the  theatrical 
with  the  religious  is  well  fitted  to  rouse  the  superstition 
and  fanaticism  of  the  spectators,  but  not  to  leave  a  lasting 


CELEBRATION    OF    GOOD    FRIDAY.  43 

impression  of  the  awful  event  which  it  is  intended  to  com- 
memorate. 

While  these  demonstrations  were  more  painful  than 
solemn,  there  was  one  silent  recognition  of  the  day  that 
was  very  impressive — the  flags  were  hung  at  half  mast! 
This  I  had  never  seen  before  in  any  of  the  cities  of  Chris- 
tendom, and  that  drooping  symbol  told  the  story  of  death 
as  no  words  could  tell  it.  It  was  as  if  the  Lord  had  just 
espu'ed  on  the  cross  ;  as  if  his  body  had  just  been  laid  in 
the  sepulchre,  and  the  disciples  were  looking  into  one 
another's  faces  in  speechless  sorrow  —  a  spectacle  which 
might  well  touch  the  heaiis  of  all  beholders,  not  only  with 
sjTupathy  but  with  awe ;  as  in  the  original  scene,  "  the 
people  that  came  together  to  that  sight,  beholding  the 
things  that  were  done,  smote  their  breasts  and  returned." 
The  commemoration  of  such  events  awakens  a  feeling 
which  seeks  rehef  in  worship  and  in  prayer.  Again  the 
English  Chvirch  presented  a  welcome  place  of  retreat, 
where  Dean  Howson  preached  an  excellent  sennon  fi"om 
the  text  "  The  inscription  was  \\-ritten  in  Hebrew,  in  Greek, 
and  in  Latin,"  from  which  he  drew  a  lesson  most  fitting  to 
the  day,  that  the  very  words  above  our  Saviour's  drooping 
head,  though  undesigned  by  the  Roman  soldiers  who  placed 
them  there,  being  in  different  languages,  indicated  that  the 
offering  which  he  then  made  was  not  for  one  nation  only, 
but  for  men  of  all  tongues  and  climes,  for  all  the  tiibes 
and  kindreds  of  mankind. 


CHAPTER  ly. 

THE    GREEK    FIRE,  SUPPOSED    TO    BE   LIGHTED    BY 
THE    DESCENT    OF    THE    HOLY    GHOST. 

The  great  day  of  the  Holy  Week  in  Jerusalem  is  not, 
as  in  Rome,  Good  Friday,  the  Day  of  the  Cnicifixion  ;  nor 
Easter,  the  Day  of  the  Resun-ection  ;  but  the  day  between, 
Saturday.  Then  the  scene  of  suffering  is  over  :  the  long 
agony  has  ended  in  death.  No  more  can  the  disciples 
gather  round  their  beloved  Master  ;  no  more  can  they  hear 
his  voice,  saying  "  Let  not  your  hearts  be  troubled  ;  ye  be- 
lieve in  God,  believe  also  in  me."  He  is  gone  to  the  grave. 
It  is  the  hour  and  the  power  of  darkness.  At  this  moment, 
when  darkness  covers  the  earth,  fire  from  heaven  descends 
to  reillumine  the  hght  that  has  been  extinguished.  As  of 
old  the  Holy  Ghost  descended  in  tongues  of  fire  on  the 
heads  of  the  Apostles,  so  now  does  a  heavenly  flame  flash 
from  above  to  kindle  the  torches  of  the  faithfid  who  are 
waiting  to  receive  it,  and  to  cast  light  again  upon  a  dark- 
ened world. 

Such  is  the  theorv%  and  such  the  ceremony  witnessed 
ever}'  year  in  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchi-e.  So  gi'oss 
is  the  imposture  that  long  since  the  Latins  refused  to  have 
anj-thing  to   do   with    it ;    and    tbe    Greeks,  w-hile  they 


THE    GREEK    FIRE.  45 

continue  the  observance,  are  forced  to  disclaim  its  mirac- 
ulous pretensions.  When  the  Patriarch  received  us  with 
such  benignity,  an  inquisitive  American  might  have  felt 
tempted  to  seek  enlightenment  on  this  point,  but  we  could 
not  so  far  disturb  his  calmness  as  to  ask  such  troublesome 
questions.  But  the  priest  who  officiated  as  his  interpreter, 
said  to  us  privately  that  His  Beatitude  did  not  claim  for  it 
a  mii-aculous,  but  only  a  symbolic  character.  Yet  he  knew 
veiy  well  that  whatever  explanations  he  might  give  to 
travellers,  the  people  did  believe  in  the  holy  fire  in  its  most 
Hteral  iuteri^retation  ;  that  it  came  from  heaven  ;  and  that 
this,  and  this  alone,  led  them  to  regard  it  with  such  awe. 
The  Patriarch  may  wash  his  hands,  like  Pilate,  and  protest 
that  he  is  innocent,  but  he  lends  his  name  and  presence  to 
one  of  the  most  shameless  superstitions  of  modern  times. 

How  great  is  the  credulity  of  the  people  is  shown  by 
the  fact  that  they  regard  it  as  an  object  of  envy  and 
ambition  to  be  the  first  to  catch  the  sacred  flame,  and  are 
willing  to  pay  for  the  privilege.  It  is  put  up  at  auction, 
being  cried  aloud  in  the  church  by  a  priest,  who  asks 
"  "Who  wiU  part  with  earthly  goods  to  obtain  a  heavenly 
inheritance  ?  "  On  this  occasion  a  wealthy  Armenian  was 
the  highest  bidder,  paying  sixty  pounds  for  the  first  place  ! 
Is  it  to  be  supposed  that  one  of  this  thrifty  race,  which  has 
the  reputation  of  always  looking  out  for  the  main  chance, 
would  throw  away  such  a  sum  for  a  torch  lit  by  a  lucifer 
match  ?  No  ;  he  believed  that  it  was  lighted  by  the  same 
Holy  Ghost  who  descended  in  tongues  of  fire  on  the 
Apostles.  The  fame  of  this  keen  rivahy  for  the  heavenly 
prize  went  abroad  in  Jerusalem,  and  added  to  the  eager- 
ness to  be  present.  Dr.  Post  had  left  that  day  for  Jaffa, 
to  take  the  steamer  for  Beirut,  being  obliged  to  return 
to  his  family  and  his  College  ;  so  that  I  was  alone,  and 
should  not  have  dared  to  venture  into  such  a  crowd,  but  by 


4G  THE    GREEK    FIRE 

the  kindness  of  the  Consul,  I  was  accompanied  on  this,  as 
on  other  occasions,  by  a  potent  protector,  in  the  person  of 
the  cavass.  "NVlioever  has  been  in  the  East  has  had 
frequent  occasion  to  exclaim,  Great  is  the  cavass !  This  is 
the  attendant  of  an  official — a  sort  of  body-^aixl,  who 
goes  before  him  and  clears  the  way,  and  who  in  outward 
appearance  is  a  much  more  imposing  figure  than  his 
master.  He  was  got  up  in  grand  costume,  with  baggy 
trousers  and  braided  coat,  and  can-ied  in  his  hand  a  huge 
truncheon  loaded  at  the  bottom,  which  rang  as  he  struck  it 
on  the  pavement,  a  sign  that  somebody  was  coming  ;  and 
a  warning  to  "  everybody,"  that  was  not  "  somebod}',"  to 
get  out  of  the  way.  This  cavass  was  a  i^triHng  character  in 
more  ways  than  one,  for  he  did  not  hesitate  to  give,  if  not  a 
blow,  at  least  a  vigorous  push,  to  any  one  who  did  not 
move  fast  enough.  The  crowd,  packed  as  it  was,  opened 
right  and  left,  thinking  no  doubt  that  it  was  some  gi-and 
personage,  a  Governor  or  a  Pasha,  who  was  walking  with 
majestic  j)i'esence  behind.  If  they  had  only  known  that  it 
was  only  a  private  American  citizen  !  Not  for  the  world 
would  I  let  them  into  the  secret,  but  walked  with  head 
erect  and  unmoved  countenance,  as  if  I  were  a  sovereign, 
(as  I  am  :  are  not  all  Americans  sovereigns  ?)  and  their 
marks  of  reverence  were  but  the  just  and  proper  recog- 
nition of  my  personal  consequence  ! 

And  so,  following  this  majestic  creature,  he  led  me 
through  the  court  and  into  the  church,  where  tlie  soldiers 
kept  a  passage  clear.  We  stepped  quickly  thi'ough  till  we 
reached  the  foot  of  a  stair  which  led  up  into  a  gaUery. 
There  are  several  galleries,  one  above  the  other,  which,  as 
they  afford  commanding  positions,  are  kept  for  invited 
guests,  or  for  travellers  who  pay  for  reserved  seats.  Above 
us  stood  a  group  of  dignitaries  of  the  Church  of  England, 
among  whom  shone  the  face  of  jrood  Dean  Howson.    I  was 


LIGHTED    BY   THE   HOLY    GHOST.  47 

in  what  would  be  called  in  a  theatre  "  the  first  tier,"  just 
opposite  the  Chapel  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  where  I  had 
paid  half  a  napoleon  (two  dollars)  for  a  front  seat,  from 
which  I  looked  down  on  the  whole  scene. 

And  what  a  scene  it  was !  To  say  that  the  church  was 
full,  conveys  no  idea  of  the  compact  mass  that  was  wedged 
into  it.  I  find  it  difficult  to  estimate  the  capacity  of  a 
building  which  is  neither  square  nor  round,  nor  confined 
within  foul'  walls,  but  i-uns  off  into  side  chapels  and  pas- 
sages. It  is  said  that  altogether  it  will  hold  over  six 
thousand.  As  this  was  the  great  spectacle  of  the  week, 
of  course  the  pOgiims — at  least  the  Greek  pilgrims — were 
anxious  to  see  it.  Hundreds  had  slept  in  the  church  all 
night  to  keep  their  places  for  the  next  day.  In  the  rear 
of  the  galleries  were  heaps  of  blankets,  on  which  they 
had  snatched  a  brief  repose.  And  when  to  this  was  added 
the  entrance  from  without,  the  crush  was  tremendous. 
The  Turkish  soldiers  tried  to  keep  back  the  incoming 
multitude,  but  in  vain.  Such  was  the  fever  of  excitement 
that  it  could  not  be  restrained.  In  it  rolled  like  a  tide, 
surging  in  every  direction,  with  a  noise  like  the  roaring  of 
the  sea. 

The  tumult  and  the  uproar  could  only  be  compared  to 
that  at  some  mass  meeting  or  political  convention.  Instead 
of  the  great  assembly  being  hushed  in  awe,  the  body  of 
those  on  the  pavement  of  the  church  were  singing  as  in 
chorus.  "  "WTiat  mean  these  ^\'ild  voices  ?  "  I  asked  of  one 
of  the  attaches  of  the  Consulate  who  stood  beside  me.  "  It 
is  the  Greeks,"  he  answered.  "And  what  are  they  say- 
ing? "  (for  I  heard  the  same  words  oft  repeated.)  "They 
are  singing  '  This  is  the  tomb  of  our  Lord  who  redeemed 
us  by  his  blood ! ' "  So  far  well,  and  if  the  voices  were 
loud  and  piercing,  stiU  they  might  be  taken  as  the  irre- 
pressible outcry  of  faith,  as  when  the  multitude  shouted 


48  THE   GREEK    FIRE 

Hosannas.  But  hark  what  follows  :  "We  are  happy,  but 
the  Jews  are  mifierahle  I  "  The  jubilant  strains  of  the  Greeks 
were  mingled  with  that  hati*ed  of  another  race  and  another 
rehgion  which  is  a  part  of  their  "  orthodox  faith  "  ;  at  the 
very  moment  of  their  exultation  at  being  redeemed  by  the 
Saviour's  blood,  their  mouths  were  filled  with  cui'sing  and 
bitterness.  It  seemed  that  they  could  not  express  their 
own  religious  joy  without  intermingling  with  it  their  ha- 
tred of  others.  It  was  said  that  if  a  Jew  had  dared  to 
show  his  head  within  the  church  at  that  moment,  he  would 
have  been  torn  in  pieces,  unless  he  had  been  rescued  by 
the  Ttu'kish  soldiers. 

Looking  down  upon  this  mass  swajang  to  and  fro,  I 
was  in  terror  lest  some  of  the  weaker  ones  in  the  crowd, 
unable  to  keep  their  standing,  should  be  thrown  down  and 
trampled  under  foot.  It  is  not  an  infrequent  occiurence 
that  persons  suffer  great  bodily  injuries,  and  that  some  are 
even  crushed  to  death.  The  chief  struggle  was  around  the 
Chapel  of  the  Sepulchre,  which  was  to  be  the  scene  of  the 
supernatural  display.  The  Chapel  has  on  its  side  a  large 
round  opening,  like  a  port-hole,  through  which  would  be 
thrust  the  flaming  torch  that  was  lighted  fi'om  heaven  ; 
and  the  gi-eat  object  was  to  be  near  this  holy  apertui'e,  so 
as  to  be  the  first  to  snatch  the  sacred  fire.  Foremost  of 
those  who  pushed  towards  this  spot  were  a  number  of 
young  men,  with  bared  arms  and  legs,  stripped  as  for  a 
race.  As  they  came  forwai'd,  the  soldiers  tried  to  push 
them  back,  and  I  was  fearful  that  to  the  scene  of  cnisliing 
would  now  be  added  the  more  horrible  spectacle  of  fight- 
ing in  this  holy  place.  It  is  not  uncommon  for  the  soldiers 
and  the  pilgi-ims  to  come  to  blows.  Indeed  on  one  mem- 
orable occasion,  in  1834,  there  was  a  conflict,  in  which 
three  htmdred  were  killed,  and  the  pavement  ran  with 
blood.     But  the  men  stood  their  ground,  and  for  a  few 


LIGHTED    BY    THE    HOLY    GHOST.  49 

moments  kept  up  an  altercation  with  the  officers,  in  which 
I  suiinised  that  they  were  ex2:)laining  that  they  were  either 
representatives  of  the  rich  Ai-menian  who  had  bought  the 
first  place,  or  men  who  had  themselves  paid  for  the  next 
places,  and  so  had  a  right  to  be  there — points  which  the 
Turks  at  last  got  into  their  dull  heads,  and  yielded  a  little, 
and  allowed  the  persistent  devotees  to  come  up  closer  till 
they  covild  hug  the  very  walls  ;  and  here  they  stood,  cling- 
ing to  the  marble  till  the  fire  from  heaven  should  descend. 

At  length  order  was  in  some  degree  restored,  and  the 
crowd  pushed  back  by  the  soldiers,  so  as  to  open  a  circular 
space  round  the  Chapel  of  the  Sepulchre,  and  then  entered 
a  series  of  processions.  First  came  the  Greek  Patriarch, 
followed  by  his  clergy  in  their  most  gorgeous  robes,  car- 
rying banners  and  chanting  the  htanies.  Thus  moving 
with  slow  step  to  the  sound  of  their  solemn  music,  they 
cii'cled  three  times  round  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  Next  came 
the  Armenians,  whose  Patriarch  outshone  his  Greek  bro- 
ther in  the  splendor  of  his  episcopal  costume  ;  and  then 
the  other  Oriental  sects — the  Copts,  the  Syrians,  and  the 
Abyssinians. 

The  processions  ended,  there  came  the  supreme  mo- 
ment, when  the  Greek  Patriarch  entered  the  Holy  Sepul- 
chre. All  Hghts  were  extinguished,  and  the  chui'ch  was  in 
dai'kness.  Then  for  the  first  time  there  was  silence.  The 
whole  vast  assembly  stood  breathless,  while  the  Patriarch, 
ha-\dng  like  the  High  Piiest  entered  into  the  Holy  of 
Holies,  was  bowed  in  prayer.  It  was  a  moment  of  eager 
expectation.  In  this  deep  stillness,  out  of  the  darkness 
suddenly  the  hght  appeared.  From  where  I  stood,  I  saw 
the  first  faint  glimmer  within  the  recess.  Long  arms  had 
been  stretched  within  the  aperture  to  grasp  it,  and  in  an 
instant  it  flashed  in  the  eyes  of  the  great  assembly,  those 
who  seized  it  first  holding  it  aloft  in  triumph.     Then  fol- 


50  THE   GREEK    FIRE 

lowed  a  scene  which  defies  description.  A  hundi'ed  arms 
were  outstretched  to  catch  the  fire,  and  in  an  instant  it  flew 
from  hand  to  hand,  till  in  a  space  of  time  so  brief  that  it 
seemed  almost  instantaneous,  the  whole  building  was 
aflame.  From  below  the  torches  were  passed  up  into  the 
galleries,  and  were  flashed  in  our  faces.  The  ladies  shrunk 
back  lest  their  dresses  should  be  caught.  We  all  seemed 
to  be  in  danger.  Perhaps  we  were  to  be  offered  up  as 
sacrifices  on  an  altar.  As  Nero  bound  the  Christians  to 
columns,  and  smeai-ed  them  with  pitch,  and  set  them  on 
fire  to  hght  the  Imperial  gardens,  so  we  might  in  the  same 
way  obtain  the  honors  of  martj^rdom  ;  or  we  might  perish, 
not  alone,  but  with  the  venerable  chui'ch  itself  as  a  funeral 
pile  :  for  indeed  for  a  few  moments  I  felt  a  degree  of  alarm 
lest  the  ancient  shrine  should  take  fii'e,  as  gallery  above 
gaUeiy  was  in  a  blaze,  while  the  dome  was  filled  with 
smoke  as  with  a  cloud  of  incense. 

Nor  was  the  illumination  confined  within  the  walls. 
Torches  were  j)assed  without  to  the  vast  crowd  waiting  in 
the  court.  The  men  whom  we  had  seen  round  the  Holy 
Sei^ulchre  stripped  for  the  race,  were  torch-bearers,  and 
now  bounded  awa}^  through  the  city  streets,  and  out  of  the 
gates,  speeding  over  hill  and  valley  to  carry  the  sacred 
flame  to  distant  hamlets  and  homes  scattered  among  the 
hiUs  and  valleys  of  Judea.  These  torches  are  precious 
heirlooms  to  the  pilgrims.  After  being  lighted  for  a  time, 
they  are  extinguished,  but  kept  with  religious  care,  to  be 
rehghted  again  only  at  a  bridal  or  a  burial.  When  the 
time  comes  that  a  service  for  the  dead  is  to  be  prepared, 
they  are  placed  like  candles  upon  the  altar,  so  that  those 
who,  having  once  made  the  pilgi'image  to  Jerusalem,  now 
make  a  longer  pilgrimage,  may  be  said  to  be  Hghted  to  the 
grave  by  torches  first  kindled  by  fire  from  heaven. 

The  spectacle  was  over.     We  had  been  in  the  church 


LIGHTED    HY    THE    HOLY    GHOST.  51 

nearly  fovir  hours,  but  it  was  a  long  time  before  tlie  crowd 
dispersed,  so  excited  were  they  by  this  miraculous  descent 
of  the  Holy  Ghost.  As  I  walked  slowly  away,  I  was  in  a 
sad  mood  at  such  a  representation  of  Christianity  in  the 
cradle  of  our  rehgion.  Was  there  ever  a  more  melancholy 
exliibition  of  human  folly,  and  folly  associated  with  some 
of  the  worst  passions  of  oiu'  nature  ?  Fanaticism  and 
superstition  go  together.  One  form  of  madness  leads  to 
another,  and  rehgious  enthusiasm,  uncontrolled,  lends  itself 
to  hatred,  malice,  and  all  uncharitableness.  It  is  the  same 
thing  the  world  over,  in  aU  ages  and  all  countries.  The 
crowd  that  filled  the  theatre  at  Ephesus,  and  shouted 
"  Great  is  Diana  of  the  Ephesians !  "  was  not  a  whit  more 
fi-enzied  with  the  fanaticism  of  superstition,  than  the  Greeks 
whom  I  saw  in  the  evening  (when  I  came  again  before  the 
church  was  filled,  and  when  there  was  space  to  move 
about),  actually  running  round  the  Holy  Sepulchre  like 
demons,  shouting  "  O  Jews !  Jews !  jour  feast  is  a  feast  of 
devils  or  of  mui'derers,  but  our  feast  is  the  feast  of  Christ !  " 

As  it  happened,  that  same  afternoon  I  went  to  the 
Temple  area,  and  the  change  was  very  great  from  the  scene 
I  had  witnessed  to  the  quiet  of  this  peaceful  spot.  As  we 
entered  the  gate,  the  muezzin  was  calling  the  faithful  to 
prayer.  Ail  was  still,  as  became  a  place  of  worship.  In  the 
seclusion  of  the  sheltered  enclosure,  and  the  reverent  man- 
ner of  those  whose  heads  were  bowed  in  prayer,  there  was 
something  far  more  in  harmony  with  the  spirit  of  devotion 
than  what  we  had  just  seen,  and  I  could  not  but  think  that 
for  religious  worship  the  Mosque  of  Omar  presented  a^ 
favorable  contrast  with  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepvdchi-e. 

The  next  morning  was  Easter,  and  the  day  was  ushered 
in  by  the  ringing  of  bells.  This  indeed  was  apijropriate, 
that  joyful  sounds  should  herald  a  jo\^vd  event.  Such  public 
recognition  sometimes  is  very  efifective,  as  it  was  in  another 


52  EASTER. 

■way  two  days  before,  when  tbe  flags  were  bung  at  lialf 
mast  on  Good  Friday.  From  that  liour  a  pall  of  darkness 
hung  over  the  world.  But  now  it  seemed  as  if  the  world 
began  to  breathe  again,  as  this  morning  peal  awoke  the 
echoes  of  the  neighboring  hills.  Listening,  I  thought  how 
joy  answered  to  Joy  from  one  hill-top  to  another,  from  city 
to  city,  and  from  land  to  land  ;  iiow  the  peal  in  Jerusalem 
was  answered  by  that  in  Rome  ;  and  in  every  capital  and 
every  cathedral,  in  a  thousand  temples,  were  repeated  the 
tidings  of  joy.  In  Russia,  in  Moscow  and  St.  Petersburg, 
friends  meeting  in  the  streets  rush  into  each  other's  arms, 
embracing  and  exclaiming  "The  Lord  is  risen!  "  So  does 
this  one  event  send  joy  to  the  ends  of  the  world. 

With  Easter  the  religious  celebrations  came  to  a  close, 
and  immediately  the  pilgrims  began  to  depart.  Passing  the 
Greek  Convent,  I  saw  a  procession  preparing  for  its  home- 
ward march.  The  next  morning  the  diflferent  companies, 
representing  different  countries  and  Chiu'ches,  were  stream- 
ing over  the  hills  ;  while  Cook's  tourists,  piled  into  waggons, 
went  rattling  down  the  road  to  Jaffa.  The  Holy  Week 
was  ended- 


CHAPTER  V. 

A    SOLITARY    WALK    FROM    GETHSEMANE    TO 
CALVARY. 

If  the  services  of  Holy  Week  were  all  that  Jerusalem 
had  to  offer,  it  wotild  be  hardly  worth  the  while  to  cross 
the  seas  on  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  City.  As  in  Rome, 
so  in  Jeinisalem,  the  form  has  killed  the  spirit,  and  services 
designed  to  recall  the  most  tender  scenes  in  the  life  of  oiu' 
Divine  Master,  are  made  the  occasion  of  theatrical  display. 
Such  exhibitions  may  be  entertaining,  but  they  are  not 
edif^-ing  ;  we  may  have  our  curiosity  excited  and  gratified, 
and  yet  at  the  same  moment  we  are  inexpressibly  sadden- 
ed, at  such  caricatures  of  what  we  hold  most  sacred.  The 
impression  is  that  of  any  other  dramatic  spectacle  :  there 
is  nothing  that  sinks  into  the  mind  and  heart,  to  remain  an 
assurance  forever  of  the  gi'eat  realities  here  commemorated 
— nothing  to  make  one  a  more  believing  disciple  of  Him 
who  lived  and  died  and  rose  again.  Indeed  if  I  were  to 
end  here,  I  should  almost  be  of  IVIr.  Spurgeon's  opinion, 
that  it  were  better  to  be  content  with  the  Life  of  Christ  as 
we  have  it  in  the  Gospels,  than  to  try  to  reproduce  it  among 
the  hills  and  valleys  of  Judea. 

And  yet  it  is  not  to  be  inferred  that  there  is  nothing  to 


64  MOODS    AND    MEMORIES. 

be  found  in  Jerusalem  that  can  minister  to  faith  or  to 
devotion.  For  this  one  needs  to  detach  himself  from  the 
round  of  celebrations,  from  legends  and  traditions,  and 
wander  alone,  ^^4th  his  New  Testament  in  his  hand,  in  the 
paths  which  his  Master  trod.  Jerusalem  in  its  suiTound- 
ings  is  the  same  as  it  was  two  thousand  years  ago.  The 
hiUs  are  all  here.  The  mountains  are  roiind  about  Jerusa- 
lem as  they  were  when  David  from  his  palace  on  Mount 
Zion  cast  his  eye  round  the  horizon,  and  found  in  their 
everlasting  presence  the  emblem  of  God's  faithfulness. 
And  having  gone  thus  far  with  the  crowd  of  pilgi'ims  to 
the  great  Festivals,  perhaps  my  readers  will  be  willing  to 
accompany  me  when  I  take  my  walks  about  Jerusalem 
alone. 

The  impressions  of  a  traveller  depend  on  a  variety  of 
causes,  chief  of  which  is  his  own  temperament,  or  it  may  be 
some  passing  mood,  whether  he  is  gay  or  sad,  buoyant  with 
hope,  or  depressed  by  disappointment.  The  causes  are 
wholly  personal,  and  of  interest  to  no  one  but  himself. 
Yet  these  j^eculiar  moods  prepare  him  to  receive  peculiar 
impressions.  Jerusalem  is  a  very  different  place  to  him 
who  comes  burdened  with  a  great  soitow,  from  what  it  is 
to  him  who  comes  in  the  lightness  of  heai-t  of  the  ordinary 
traveller.  Wherever  one  may  go,  he  drags  the  past  behind 
him  :  and  all  he  sees  is  colored  by  his  own  secret  thoughts 
and  memories.  Some  years  since  I  made  a  journey  round 
the  world,  seeking  rehef  from  the  oppression  of  a  great 
sorrow.  But  I  found  that  though  a  traveller  may  fly  to  the 
ends  of  the  earth,  he  cannot  escape  from  himself.  Wherever 
I  went,  a  shadow  darkened  every  landscape,  and  an  under- 
tone of  sadness  mingled  even  with  the  voices  of  nature, 
with  the  singing  of  birds  as  weU  as  the  sighing  of  the  wind 
or  the  moaning  of  the  sea.  "When  I  reached  the  other 
hemisphere,  it  seemed   as  if   the  past  must   di'op   away 


PASSING    A    MILESTONE    ON    LIFE'S   JOURNEY.     55 

(how  could  America  touch  me  in  the  heart  of  Asia  ?) ;  yet 
at  Calcutta  came  the  anniversary  of  the  saddest  event  of 
my  hfe,  and  in  an  instant  all  its  bitter  memories  came 
back  again.  Though  a  guest  with  friends,  I  could  not  bear 
even  the  Ughted  room  or  the  cheerful  company,  but  went 
out  upon  a  balcony  and  sat  for  hours  alone  in  the  moon- 
Hght.  All  round  the  great  city  lay  silent  as  if  buried  in 
slumber  ;  even  the  trees  stood  motionless  in  the  breathless 
stihness  of  the  troj^ical  night  :  only  the  leaves  of  the  palms 
were  gently  stiiTed  by  the  evening  wind.  The  Winter  was 
but  just  over  and  gone,  but  akeady  the  fervid  sun  had 
brought  the  fulness  of  the  Springtime,  the  season  when  De 
Quincey  says  that  more  than  at  any  other  we  think  of 
Death  from  its  contrast  with  the  fulness  of  life  in  nature  : 

and 

"As  earth  came  forth  with  promise  of  the  Spring, 
I  turned  from  all  she  brought  to  those  she  could  not  bring." 

So  finely  is  our  whole  being  vn-ought  and  knit  together, 
that  it  is  impossible  to  separate  the  present  fi-om  the  past — 
the  sight  of  what  is  from  the  memory  of  what  has  been  : — 
'  'And  ever  and  anon  there  comes  a  wound 
Striking  the  electric  chord  wherewith  we  are  darkly  bound." 

In  Jerusalem  I  felt  no  "  wound,"  but  only  the  touch  of  a 
hand  :  it  was  the  most  commonplace  of  all  anniversaries — 
a  birthday — which  I  mention  only  to  show  how  slight  a 
thing  can  g'^^e  a  turn  to  one's  thoughts — how  an  event  in 
one's  own  life,  reciuTing  in  the  midst  of  holy  places,  and 
causing  personal  memories  to  mingle  with  religious  ser- 
vices, may  strike  the  ke\Tiote  of  a  whole  week  of  musing 
and  meditation.  In  tinith  it  was  a  day  to  make  one 
thoughtful,  since  it  completed  threescore  years !  It 
seemed  as  if  with  the  touch  of  a  hand  there  were  the 
pointing  of  a  finger  to  the  long  distance  that  had  been 
passed  on  life's  joui-ney,  and  the  shorter  that  yet  remained. 


56  THE    GARDEN    OF    GETHSEMANE. 

It  seemed  to  say,  The  day  is  far  spent ;  the  sun  is  in  the 
last  quarter  of  the  heavens,  and  hastens  to  his  going  down. 
Such  thoughts  do  not  make  me  sad,  but  they  make  me 
sober.  Musing  on  all  these  vanished  years,  and  the  lives 
that  had  vanished  with  them,  I  was  in  no  mood  for  crowds 
and  shows,  but  rather  for  sohtude  and  meditation.  I  did 
not  feel  that  day  like  joining  the  throng  of  pilgrims,  but 
rather  like  steaUng  away  to  some  quiet  spot  where  I  could 
be  alone.  And  what  place  so  fit  as  that  where  the  Master 
himself  sought  retii'ement?  And  so  I  went  unto  the 
Mount  of  Olives.  Of  the  position  of  this  sacred  Mount 
there  has  never  been  a  question  :  now,  as  in  the  time  of 
our  Saviour,  it  stands  over  against  the  city.  Below  was 
the  bed  of  the  Kedron,  now  dry  as  Summer  dust,  but 
which,  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year,  after  the  early  or  the 
latter  rain,  is  filled  with  a  foaming  torrent,  that  rises 
suddenly  and  as  quickly  disappears.  "VMiat  an  image  of 
human  life!  So  swiftly  does  it  pass  away,  and  we  are 
gone. 

The  exact  position  of  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane  is 
more  of  a  question,  although  tradition,  as  usual,  has  fixed 
it  with  the  utmost  precision,  marking  its  boundaries  and 
enclosing  it  with  a  wall.  The  space  within  is  laid  out  like 
a  garden  in  the  French  style,  with  straight  walks  and  trim 
hedges.  The  monk  who  showed  us  round  plucked  some 
leaves  and  flowers  which  we  might  carry  away  as  memen- 
toes of  the  sacred  place.  Fragrant  as  the  spices  which 
anointed  Christ  for  biuial  were  the  flowers  which  bore  a 
name  so  precious  as  that  of  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane. 
Whether  tliis  be  the  very  spot  or  no,  it  could  not  have 
been  far  away  :  for  it  was  on  the  slope  of  Olivet ;  some- 
where on  this  hillside  was  the  scene  of  that  great  agony. 
Even  with  the  belittling  attempt  at  landscape  gardening, 
which  gives  to  Gethsemane  such  a  modern  look,  there  U 


I-.' 


IN    PILATE'S    HALL.  57 

one  feature  which  is  ancient  and  venerable,  in  the  olive 
trees,  gnarled  and  knotted  like  English  oaks,  which  have 
stood  here  for  centui'ies — some  have  said  fi'om  the  time  of 
Christ.  But  this  cannot  be,  for  in  the  siege  of  Jerusa- 
lem by  Titus,  the  trees  were  all  cut  down  by  the  Tenth 
Legion.  The  present  trees  may  date  from  the  fourth 
century.  Sitting  down  under  them,  we  take  out  our  New 
Testament  and  read  the  story  of  that  night  ;  how  his 
sweat  was,  as  it  were,  gi'eat  di'ops  of  blood  falUng  down  to 
the  ground  as  he  prayed,  "  K  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup 
pass  from  me."  When  oui'  Lord  offered  this  prayer,  he  was 
within  twenty-foiu'  hoiu's  of  the  end.  He  was  about  to 
descend  into  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  by  the 
steps  of  unutterable  humiliation  :  to  be  betrayed  by  one 
c  i  his  own  disciples  ;  to  be  seized  by  armed  men  ;  to  be 
dragged  to  a  Judgment  Hall ;  to  be  mocked  and  scourged  ; 
and  to  be  dehvered  up  to  the  fury  of  his  enemies.  ^\Tio 
can  think  of  such  ciniel  sufferings  of  his  Lord,  without  try- 
ing in  some  degi'ee  to  di*ink  in  his  spirit  and  imitate  his 
example  ;  to  learn  the  hardest  of  aU  lessons — to  bow  his 
head,  even  in  the  midst  of  sorrow  and  pain,  and  say  "  Not 
my  will,  but  thine  be  done  "  ? 

Following  the  course  of  events  of  that  mournful  night, 
we  returned  to  the  city  by  St.  Stephen's  Gate,  following 
the  path  along  which  oiu'  Lord  was  led  by  the  Roman 
guard  to  Pilate's  Hall.  Of  the  points  in  Jerusalem  that  are 
determined,  few  are  better  known  than  the  site  of  the 
Castle  Antonia,  Pilate's  house  and  the  Judgment  HalL 
Here  was  a  scene  which  the  masters  have  tried  to  depict.  A 
great  painting  by  a  Hungarian  artist  recently  attracted  the 
attention  of  London  and  Paiis,  in  which  were  very  vividly 
portrayed  the  faces  of  that  Jewish  miiltitude,  with  their 
priestly  leaders.  In  the  judgment-seat  sits  the  Roman 
Governor,  whose  command  the   attendant   sokb'ers  only 


58  THROUGH    THE   VIA    DOLOROSA. 

wait  to  hear,  but  who  is  sorely  puzzled  what  to  decide. 
His  head  is  bent  in  anxious  thought  ;  he  is  trj'ing  to  be 
rid  of  a  case  which  troubles  him — wishing  to  gratify  the 
infuriated  crowd  which  demands  a  sacrifice,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  clear  himself  of  the  guilt  of  shedding  inno- 
cent blood.  The  face  of  Pilate  is  a  mastei-piece  :  but 
where  the  artist  has  failed — because  he  attempted  the 
impossible — is  in  portrajang  the  face  of  Christ ;  yet  even 
unsatisfactory  as  it  is,  there  is  a  majesty  in  that  counte- 
nance, unmoved  except  to  sadness  in  the  midst  of  the 
wild,  tumiiltuous  scene.  Gustave  Dore  has  attempted  OL 
a  large  canvas,  to  seize  the  moment  of  Christ's  leaving  the 
Pretorium,  with  the  same  result  of  a  painting  wonderful  in 
its  pictures  of  the  different  characters  which  compose  the 
angi-y  midtitude,  yet  faihng  to  give  the  Divine  Form  that 
moves  serenely  through  them  all  to  the  great  sacrifice. 

But  Httle  thought  the  disciples  who  watched  that  scene 
of  its  pictorial  aspects.  All  idea  of  it  as  a  spectacle  was 
lost  in  the  one  overpowering  thought  of  their  Master's 
death.  When  the  crowd  issued  fi'om  the  Hall,  fierce  and 
exultant  over  its  great  victim,  it  took  its  covu'se  along  a 
street  which  still  bears  the  name  of  the  Via  Dolorosa.  The 
ancient  way  is  covered  to  a  great  depth  by  the  debris  of 
centuries  ;  but  opposite  the  site  of  the  Pretorium,  under 
the  Convent  of  the  Sisters  of  Zion,  have  been  found  traces 
of  the  old  Roman  pavement,  along  which  once  roUed  the 
chariots  of  Pilate  and  Herod  ;  and  here  it  is  not  improb- 
able that  we  tread  the  very  stones  that  were  pressed  by 
the  Savioiir's  feet,  as  he  went  forth  bearing  his  cross. 
Tradition  has  attempted  to  designate  everj'  point  in  the 
Via  Dolorosa,  such  as  that  where  Jesus  turned  to  the 
women  who  followed  him,  and  "bewailed  and  lamented 
him,"  and  said  "  Daughters  of  Jerusalem,  weep  not  for  me, 
but  weep  for  yovirselves  and  for  your  children";  and  the 


THE    PLACE    OF    CRUCIFIXION.  59 

spot  where  be  fainted  under  his  cross.  We  do  not  need  to 
be  thus  precise.  It  is  enough  that  we  walk  the  Via 
Dolorosa  in  company  with  our  Di\T.ne  Master.  What 
disciple  can  follow,  even  at  this  distance  of  time,  a  way 
filled  with  such  memories,  without  saying  to  himself  : 

"  Must  Jesus  bear  the  cross  alone, 
And  all  the  world  go  free  ? 
No  ;  there's  a  cross  for  every  one, 
And  there's  a  cross  for  me." 

And  so  following  in  all  the  way  the  Master  trod  in 
weariness  and  pain,  we  come  at  last  to  the  site  which  tradi- 
tion has  fixed  upon  as  Golgotha — the  Place  of  a  Skull. 
The  place  of  cinicifixion,  like  the  place  of  burial,  is  included 
-ftithin  the  Chiux-h  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  though  it  is  at 
the  other  end  of  the  church,  in  a  recess,  or  chapel,  by  itself. 
As  Golgotha  is  supposed  to  have  been  a  rocky  moiind, 
which  looked  down  on  the  garden  at  its  foot,  in  which  was 
the  new  sepulchre,  the  Chapel  of  the  Cnicitixion  is  at  an 
elevation  above  the  pavement,  in  a  gaUery,  which  is  reached 
by  a  stair.  I  ascended  the  steps  of  stone,  and  at  once 
saw  by  the  altar  at  the  end  of  the  gallery,  covered  with 
votive  oflferings  of  gold  and  silver,  which  ghstened  in  the 
light  of  the  lamps  suspended  over  it,  that  I  was  at  the 
foot  of  Calvary.  It  is  a  sombre  place,  with  a  kind  of  sepul- 
chral gloom,  which  the  lights  hung  fi'om  the  ceiling  cannot 
dispel,  as  if  the  darkness  of  Death  still  lingered  where  the 
Lord  expii-ed.  But  Calvary  is  the  centre  which  attracts 
aU  worshippers.  As  it  was  an  interval  in  the  seiTices,  the 
crowd  had  ebbed  away  ;  only  a  few  remained,  who  were 
held  not  so  much  by  curiosity  as  by  devotion.  These  were 
chiefly  pilgrims  of  the  humblest  class.  A  woman  whose 
countenance  bore  traces  of  a  Hfe  of  suffering,  crept  to  the 
altar,  and  bowing,  almost  prostrating  herself,  kissed  the 
spot  where  the  cross  stood.     I  have  always  observed  that 


60  AT    THE    FOOT    OF    CALVARY. 

those  wlio  come  oftenest  and  liuf^er  longest,  in  such  a  place 
of  silence  and  meditation,  are  the  poor  in  this  world  who 
are  rich  in  faith,  to  whom  life  is  a  burden  heavy  to  be 
borne,  and  to  whom  Religion  is  the  only  consolation. 
Those  to  whom  mere  subsistence  is  a  constant  anxiety,  find 
comfort  in  looking  up  to  him  who  had  not  where  to  lay 
his  head.  The  aged  and  infirm  come  to  one  who,  however 
strong,  does  not  repel  their  weakness.  Those  w^ho  can 
scarcely  creep  to  the  altar  find  support  in  looking  to  him 
w^ho  bore  our  gi-iefs  and  caiTied  our  sicknesses.  He  who 
comes  for  the  last  time,  whom  death  has  marked  for  its 
own,  finds  strength  in  the  sight  of  his  dying  Lord.  Even 
the  consciousness  of  sin  does  not  keep  away  those  who 
come  in  penitence  and  confession  to  cast  the  load  that 
weighs  heavy  on  the  conscience,  on  him  who  bore  our  sins 
in  his  own  body  on  the  tree.  Thus  do  all  the  types  of 
human  infirmity — Poverty,  and  Sickness,  and  hoary  Age  ; 
those  who  are  broken  with  years  and  with  soitows  ;  kneel 
together  at  the  feet  of  him  who  is  at  once  the  Great 
Sufferer  and  the  Great  Consoler. 

A  spectacle  so  touching  draws  the  coldest  heart  into 
sympathy,  and  I  could  not  look  on  unmoved.  Whatever 
question  I  might  have  had  as  to  the  identity  of  the  spot,  I 
was  in  no  mood  to  raise  that  question  now.  Here  were 
men  and  women  on  bended  knees,  in  the  full  exercise  of 
faith  and  devotion ;  and  though  I  might  not  accept  all  that 
they  believed,  yet  recognizing  the  same  great  event,  I  bowed 
my  head,  and  in  silent  prayer  joined  with  the  worshippers. 
And  thus  came  into  my  heart  a  great  peace.  Looking  back, 
I  saw  sixty  years  rolling  away  behind  me,  and  felt  no 
regret  at  their  departure.  They  were  gone  ;  let  them  go  ! 
At  the  foot  of  the  cross  one  learns  to  judge  more  justly  of 
life.  Things  that  once  seemed  great  look  very  smalL 
How  petty  are  our  ambitions,  our  triumphs  and  our  sue 


AT   THE    FOOT    OP    CALVARY.  61 

cesses !  Even  our  trials,  which  we  love  to  magnify  to  exalt 
our  coiu'age  and  endurance,  sink  into  nothing  in  the  pres- 
ence of  our  Saviour's  agony.  And  so,  at  the  foot  of  the 
cross,  we  gain  strength  to  do  and  to  suffer,  to  Hve  and  to 
die.  Looking  up  into  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ,  we  are 
answered  by  a  look  of  infinite  tenderness  and  compassion, 
which  gives  us  a  sense  of  protection  and  of  safety.  "We  are 
sure  that  "  He  who  loved  his  own  will  love  them  unto  the 
end."  In  all  the  rough  way  of  life  may  He  be  with  us ! 
On  this  day  of  sober  memories  and  anticipations,  this  is 
my  prayer  : 

Abide  with  me !    Fast  falls  the  eventide ; 
The  darkness  deepens ;  Lord,  with  me  abide ! 
When  other  helpers  fail,  and  comforts  flee, 
Help  of  the  helpless,  oh  abide  with  me  ! 

Swift  to  its  close  ebbs  out  life's  little  day ; 
Earth's  joys  grow  dim,  its  glories  pass  away ; 
Change  and  decay  in  all  around  I  see  : 
O  thou  who  changest  not,  abide  with  me ! 

Hold  thou  thy  cross  before  my  closing  eyes ; 
Shine  through  the  gloom,  and  point  me  to  the  skies ; 
Heaven's  morning  breaks,  and  earth's  vain  shadows  flee ; 
In  life,  in  death,  O  Lord,  abide  with  me ! 


CHAPTEK  VI. 

AT   THE    CROSS    AND    THE   SEPULCHRE. 

To  come  fully  under  the  shadow  of  the  cross,  one  visit 
to  Calvary  is  not  enough,  I  came  and  came  again,  and 
with  each  return  to  the  sacred  spot,  the  scene  grew  more 
real,  and  the  moral  effect  grew  deeper.  Never  can  I  forget 
my  last  visit  the  evening  before  I  left  Jenisalem.  The 
Holy  Week  was  ended,  and  the  pilgrims  had  tvu'ned  their 
faces  towards  home.  Of  course  some  still  lingered,  reluc- 
tant to  depart  ;  but  so  few  in  comparison  that  one  could 
walk  the  streets  without  being  jostled  by  men  wearing 
strange  garbs  and  speaking  strange  tongues,  and  could 
visit  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  and  walk  about 
undistui'bed.  It  was  neai-ly  twihght  when  I  descended 
into  the  court  and  jiassed  under  the  old  archway  for  the 
last  time.  What  a  contrast  to  the  trampling  crowds  of  the 
last  week !  The  great  church  was  empty.  The  stillness 
was  almost  painful ;  and  when,  after  awhile,  there  rose 
from  a  side  chapel  a  vesper  hj-mn — so  soft  and  gentle  was 
it,  that  like  a  distant  echo,  it  seemed  to  add  to  the  sense  of 
silence  that  was  otherwise  unbroken.  Thus  all  combined 
to  produce  the  feeling  of  loneliness  with  which  I  ascended 
the  stair,  and  came  once  more  to  the  foot  of  Calvary. 


IS   THIS   THE   VERY   SPOT  ?  63 

And  is  this  the  spot  where  my  Saviour  died  ?  How  can 
I  tell  what  others,  far  wiser  and  more  learned,  have  tried 
in  vain  to  determine  ?  Ti-adition  aflfinns  it,  and  even  points 
to  the  holes  in  the  rock  in  which  the  three  crosses  stood. 
If  there  were  nothing  but  tradition  to  rest  upon,  that  alone 
would  invest  it  with  a  sacred  interest.  Here,  where  gen- 
erations have  knelt  in  adoration  of  their  expiring  Lord, 
his  death  is  more  real  and  more  present  than  on  any  other 
spot  of  earth.  But  there  is  at  least  a  reasonable  presump- 
tion that  the  tradition  is  founded  on  reality.  Underneath 
the  pavement  is  a  rock  which  answers  to  the  Mount  of 
Crucifixion.  Indeed  one  may  reach  down  through  an 
opening  in  the  marble  floor,  and  thrust  his  hand  into  a 
fissui'e  which  is  said  to  have  been  caused  by  the  earth- 
quake, when  "  the  rocks  were  rent  and  the  graves  were 
opened."  None  can  deny  that  this  may  be  the  spot.  It  is 
at  least  possible  that  the  disciples  in  the  fii'st  centuiies 
kept  the  secret  of  the  place,  concealing  it  until  it  was  safe 
to  mark  it  by  an  altai*  of  worship.  If  this  be  so,  then  am  I 
at  this  moment  at  the  foot  of  the  time  Calvary-,  standing 
where  Mary  stood — "  Now  there  stood  by  the  cross  Mary 
the  mother  of  Jesus."  Of  the  Roman  soldiers,  it  is  said, 
"And  sitting  down,  they  watched  him  there."  We  too  may 
watch,  silent  and  observant  of  that  closing  scene. 

To  those  who  stood  by  the  cross,  the  first  impression 
must  have  been  that  of  intense  physical  stiffering.  Cruci- 
fixion is  one  of  the  most  painful  fonns  of  death  which  the 
cruelty  of  man  has  been  able  to  devise.  It  is  not  instan- 
taneous, but  long  and  lingering,  the  sufferer  sometimes 
hanging  for  hoxu's,  with  cords  and  nei'ves  torn  by  the 
nails,  before  death  comes  to  his  relief.  Nor  had  our 
Master  any  of  the  alleviations  which  in  some  cases  make 
the  suffering  less  intense.  In  an  old  man,  whose  frame 
has  long  been  breaking,  age  that  weakens  the  power  of 


64  THE   SUFFERINGS    OF   01  R   LORD 

action,  also  diminishes  the  capacity  of  suffeiing.  Death 
comes  easily  to  one  who  has  anticipated  it  by  a  slow  and 
gradual  decay.  But  our  Lord  was  in  his  eai'ly  manliood — - 
only  thirty-three  years  old — with  a  body  tenacious  of  life, 
and  which  took  long  to  die.  And  so  the  hours  which  he 
hung  ujion  the  cross,  must  have  been  of  an  agony  which 
can  hardl}'  be  conceived. 

But  to  this  were  added  other  elements  of  suffering. 
The  physical  pain  was  nothing  to  the  mental  anguish.  He 
suffered  alone :  for  the  malefactors  who  died  with  him  but 
gave  additional  ignominy  and  bitterness  to  his  death. 
Their  presence  was  no  solace  to  the  dying  Lord,  nor  had 
he  any  other.  Martyrs  have  been  followed  to  the  scaffold 
or  the  stake  by  those  who  have  kept  up  their  courage  by 
sympathy  and  admiration.  But  of  such  support  Jesus  had 
none.  In  all  the  city  of  Jerusalem,  crowded  as  it  was  at 
the  Feast  of  the  Passover,  few  thought  of  him.  His  disci- 
ples "forsook  him  and  fled."  Even  when  they  saw  him 
led  forth  to  execution,  they  followed  only  "  afar  off."  A 
few  faithful  women,  whom  love  inspu-ed  with  courage, 
crept  neai-er  to  the  foot  of  the  cross.  But  how  little  could 
their  love  and  devotion  do  for  the  Great  Sufferer !  For  to 
this  depth  of  anguish  there  was  a  still  lower  deep  :  not 
only  was  he  deserted  by  men,  but,  as  it  seemed,  forsaken 
by  God.  Was  there  ever  a  cry  so  bitter  as  that  when 
there  was  darkness  over  all  the  land  from  the  sixth  to  the 
ninth  hour  :  "  My  God !  my  God !  why  hast  thou  forsaken 
me  ?  "  The  heavens  above  were  black  ;  there  was  not  a 
gleam  of  light  in  all  the  horizon.  In  this  darkened  uni- 
verse his  spirit  seemed  to  be  passing  into  eternal  night. 
Here  was  a  sovirce  of  anguish  into  which  the  beholders 
could  not  enter.  Had  the  disciples  clung  to  him  ever  so 
closely,  they  might  indeed  have  proved  their  lideHty,  but 
they  could  not  have  taken  from  the  weight  of  that  immense 


TEACH    US    TO    BEAR    OUIl    OWN'.  G5 

suffering.  They  could  not  touch  the  mighty  wound.  Not 
only  could  they  not  reheve  it,  they  could  not  even  compre- 
hend it.  Jesus  Christ,  when  giving  his  life  for  the  sins  of 
the  world,  was  beyond  the  reach  of  human  sympathy.  He 
trod  the  wine-press  alone. 

So  far  as  the  sufferings  of  Christ  were  of  the  nature  of 
a  propitiation  ;  of  an  atonement  for  sin  ;  they  were  too 
great  and  awful  to  furnish  an  example  for  us.  But  as 
there  was  in  him  a  mingling  of  the  human  and  the  divine, 
so  in  his  sufferings  there  was  much  which  answers  to  oiir 
own,  and  which  we  may  learn  to  bear  more  patiently  by 
looking  to  him. 

The  great  want  of  the  human  heart  is  sympathy  and 
affection,  and  in  this  Christ  was  a  man,  not  only  with  all 
human  sensibihties,  but  with  cravings  far  more  intense 
than  ours.  And  yet  in  this  world  he  was  alone — alone 
while  he  lived  and  alone  when  he  died.  Some  who  have 
made  a  study  of  the  physical  cause  of  Clmst's  death,  have 
said  that  he  died  of  a  broken  heart.  If  so,  it  was  mental 
suffering  joined  to  the  tension  and  laceration  of  the  cross, 
which  burst  a  heart  that  embraced  a  world  in  its  boimd- 
less  love. 

In  this  element  of  solitariness,  our  trials,  small  as  they 
are,  yet  faintly  resemble  those  of  our  Master.  Do  we 
tread  the  wilderness  of  this  world  alone  ?  So  did  he. 
Does  the  world  care  little  for  us?  It  cared  little  for  him. 
Are  we  of  small  account  in  its  esteem  ?  So  was  he.  What 
can  we  suffer  from  want  of  companionship  or  sympathy 
compared  with  him,  who  was  in  the  world,  and  the  world  was 
made  by  him,  and  the  world  knew  him  not  ?  Jesus  drank  the 
cup  of  humiliation  to  the  very  dregs,  that  he  might  be  able 
to  sympathize  with  the  humblest  of  mankind.  The  mass  of 
men  are  poor,  but  who  so  poor  as  he  ?  Do  we  ever  think 
what  honor  our  Lord  put  upon  poverty  by  coming  into 


66  THE   BLESSING    OF   THE    POOR. 

the  world  in  a  condition  so  lowly?  We  might  almost  say 
that  he  could  not  have  been  the  Redeemer  of  the  world  if 
he  had  not  himself  been  poor  :  for  he  would  have  been  far 
above  the  plane  of  ordinary  human  condition,  and  outside 
the  jDale  of  human  sympathy.  A  profound  distinction  has 
been  made  between  the  Old  Dispensation  and  the  New  : 
that  while  the  former  glorified  prosperity,  making  it  a 
proof  of  the  favor  of  God  that  a  man  was  rich  in  worldly 
possessions,  in  flocks  and  herds,  the  New  glorifies  adver- 
sity, making  it  rather  a  sign  of  the  Divine  favor  that  a 
man  is  chastened  and  brought  low.  It  blesses  the  poor. 
This  suits  better  the  condition  of  the  mass  of  mankind. 
To  the  greater  part  of  the  human  race  life  is  a  disappoint- 
ment. The  more  we  aspire  to  that  which  is  high,  the  more 
we  suffer  from  being  brought  down  to  that  which  is  low. 
Deep  hidden  within  the  breast  are  the  pangs  of  wounded 
pride  and  disappointed  ambition  ;  hut  they  are  there.  The 
keenest  sting  to  our  pride  in  our  contests  with  the  world, 
is  to  have  the  mcked  triumph  over  us  ;  to  be  overcome  by 
the  mean  and  the  mahgnant ;  to  hear  their  laugh  of  scorn, 
their  cruel  mockeiy,  in  the  hour  of  defeat.  Yet  CJhrist 
was  humbled  in  the  presence  of  his  enemies  ;  he  was 
pursued  with  relentless  hatred  ;  he  was  brought  to  the 
scaffold.  It  was  at  that  moment,  when  dying  from  the 
malice  of  his  persecutors,  that  he  prayed  "  Father,  forgive 
them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do  " — an  abnegation  of 
self  so  complete  that  it  drew  from  the  great  French  writer 
of  the  last  century,  Rousseau,  this  confession  ;  "  Socrates 
died  like  a  philosopher,  but  Jesus  Christ  like  a  God ! " 
If  God  could  forgive  such  crimes,  cannot  we  forgive  our 
petty  injui'ies?  Should  not  such  forgiveness  di-aw  out  of 
our  hearts  every  feeling  of  hatred  and  bitterness?  Is  there 
any  abasement  of  our  pride  that  is  not  easy  to  bear  when 
we  contemplate  the  voluntary  luimiliation  of  the  Greatest 


THE    COMFORT    OF    THE    LOXELY.  67 

among  men  ?    Shall  the  disciple  be  greater  than  his  Master, 
or  the  servant  gi-eater  than  his  Lord  ? 

But  there  are  some  that  have  no  ambition  and  no  pride, 
and  yet  are  fearfully  alone.  To  such  the  Master  comes  in 
the  deepest  sohtude,  and  by  his  coming  takes  away  the 
feeling  of  desolateness.  His  sj^mpathy  is  so  dehcate  and 
tender,  so  mindful  of  human  infirmity,  so  gentle  and 
forgiving,  that  it  glides  into  the  heai*t  and  steals  away  its 
sorrow.  WTio  can  be  lonely  with  such  a  Friend  and 
Companion?  Though  one  climb  the  highest  mountain, 
Christ  is  there.  Though  he  sail  the  farthest  ocean,  even 
there,  in  the  darkness  of  midnight,  he  can  see  a  Fonn 
walking  on  the  waves,  and  hear  a  voice  saj-ing  "  It  is  I ; 
be  not  afraid."  So  Christ  comes  to  us  in  our  darkest 
night,  in  oiu*  extremest  need  ;  in  what  seems  to  us  utter 
loneliness.  He  who  was  himself  deserted  of  men  ;  whose 
life  was  so  solitary  ;  can  comfort  aU  the  lonely.  There  is 
not  a  heai-t  so  desolate,  nor  a  life  so  dreary,  into  which  his 
presence  cannot  bring  an  ineffable  peace.  And  not  only 
will  he  be  with  us  in  the  loneliness  of  life,  but  in  the  lone- 
liness of  death  :  for  then  it  is  that  we  are  most  solitai^, 
when  we  venture  forward  into  the  dark  and  the  unknown. 
In  the  Church  of  Rome,  when  one  is  near  his  end,  the 
priest  comes  to  the  bedside,  and  holds  up  the  crucifix 
before  the  eyes,  and  presses  it  to  the  hps,  of  the  dying, 
that  the  sight  of  his  Lord  may  give  him  strength  to  pass 
thiough  the  gates  of  death.  We  use  no  such  symbols,  but 
coming  to  the  foot  of  the  cross,  even  the  sternest  Prot- 
estant must  bow  his  head  and  say,  Jesus,  look  on  me ! 
For  such  prayer  this  is  the  place.  Its  associations  make  a 
Beal  Presence  of  the  body  and  blood  of  Christ.  We  seem 
to  look  up  into  the  Master's  face,  and  to  hear  his  voice 
saying  "  Son,  Daughter,  go  in  peace  ;  thy  sins  are  forgiven 
thee ! "     He  who  looked  down  from  the  height  of  his  cross, 


68  THl']    CROSS    IN    HISTORY. 

and  spoke  words  of  comfort  to  the  weeping  group  at  his 
feet,  comforts  us  also.  He  who  forgave  His  enemies,  for- 
gives ovir  ingratitude,  and  gives  us  peace. 

If  it  were  not  too  much  dividing  ovir  thoughts,  one 
wovdd  be  tempted  here  to  trace  the  Cross  in  Histor}',  and 
mark  the  revolutions  of  time  ;  to  note  how  the  instrument 
of  torture  and  of  ignominy  has  become  a  sign  of  glory — a 
badge  worn  in  the  cro'RTis  of  emperors  and  kings,  and  a 
sign  lifted  up  on  the  spires  of  great  capitals  ;  to  observe 
how  an  influence  starting  from  this  spot,  like  a  fountain 
biu'sting  from  the  rock,  has  flowed  tlirough  history- — the 
purifying  element  of  all  modem  civilization.  Looking  at 
it  in  these  general  bearings,  so  vast  and  remote,  one  may 
well  use  the  language  of  exultation  : 

"  In  the  Cross  of  Christ  I  glory, 

Towering  o'er  the  wrecks  of  Time ; 
All  the  lights  of  ancient  story 
Gather  round  that  head  sublime." 

But  one  who  comes  to  the  foot  of  Calvary  is  not  in  a 
mood  to  philosophize  upon  histoiy.  This  little  chapel  is 
but  a  small  oratory  compared  with  the  gi-eat  cathedrals  of 
Christendom  ;  but  it  is  the  spot  where,  according  to  tradi- 
tion, the  Crucifixion  took  place,  and  that  gives  it  an 
interest  which  does  not  belong  to  aU  the  cathedrals  in  the 
world.  As  a  Chiistian  stands  here  at  the  foot  of  the  cross, 
he  is  thinking,  not  of  the  relation  of  his  Master's  death  to 
the  world,  but  to  his  own  sovd — to  him  as  one  who  has  to 
live  and  to  die,  and  to  go  to  the  bar  of  judgment  ;  and  the 
utterance  of  his  heart  is  "  God  be  mercifrd  to  me,  a 
sinner !  " — "  Lord,  remember  me  when  thou  comest  into 
thy  kingdom !  " 

From  the  Chapel  of  the  Crucifixion,  I  descended  to  the 
floor  of  the  church,  pausing  at  the  stone  which  marks  the 
spot  where  the  Ijody  was  anointed  for  burial,  and  came  to 


AT   THE   SEPULCHRE.  69 

the  place  of  the  Sepulchre.  "When  I  had  been  here  be- 
fore, the  Latin  fathers  were  standing  in  front  of  it,  some 
of  whom  were  stalwart  men,  with  rich  deep  voices,  and 
sang  in  triumphant  strains  the  glorious  HjTnns  of  the  Res- 
urrection. Now  all  was  still  as  I  went  down  the  steps 
alone,  and  entered  the  place  of  entombment.  This,  though 
called  a  chapel,  is  no  bigger  than  a  monk's  cell,  and  one 
has  to  do  almost  as  did  the  disciples,  Peter  and  John — to 
"  stoop  down  "  in  order  to  enter  it.  It  is  indeed  a  "naiTOW 
house,"  but  it  is  enough  ;  it  is  sufficient  for  a  tomb.  Here 
was  the  new  sepulchre,  wherein  was  never  man  laid  till  it 
received  the  body  of  our  Lord.  The  old  rock-sepulchre  is 
not  here.  There  may  have  been  a  cavity  hollowed  out 
below,  in  which  the  body  was  laid  ;  but  if  so,  it  is  covered 
fi'om  sight  by  slabs  of  marble,  in  form  lite  a  sarcophagus, 
whereon,  as  an  altar,  the  mass  is  celebrated  daily,  accord- 
ing to  the  rites  of  both  the  Greek  and  the  Latin  Church — 
"  an  unbloody  offering,"  as  it  is  called,  for  the  quick  and 
dead. 

What  interest  gathers  and  is  focused  in  this  hallowed 
spot,  the  very  centre  of  Christendom — of  its  faith  and 
devotion !  Within  these  narrow  walls  what  prayers  have 
been  ojffered,  and  what  teai's  have  been  shed !  What  a 
place  for  memories,  for  sorrows,  and  for  hopes !  A  world 
of  memories  came  sweeping  thi'ough  the  mind,  as  a  light- 
ning flash  reveals  a  whole  landscape  that  is  btuied  in 
darkness — thoughts  of  the  dead  lying  in  graves  far  off  be- 
yond the  sea.  As  I  knelt  and  bowed  my  head  on  the  cold 
stone,  it  seemed  as  if  I  laid  both  head  and  heart  upon  a 
coffin  lid  which  had  suddenly  closed  on  a  beloved  form 
and  face.  Within  were  the  eyes  that  shone,  and  the  lips 
that  spoke  to  ours,  but  that  would  not  look  or  speak  again. 
We  listen,  if  we  may  not  hear  the  deejj-drawn  breath  or 
the  beating  of  the  heart ;  but  no  sound  escapes  :  the  lips 


70  THE    ONLY   HOPE    OF   IMMORTALTTV. 

are  sealed,  the  heart  is  stUl,  the  hands  are  folded  on  the 
breast  So  have  come  generations  of  the  broken-heaiied, 
and  poured  out  their  tears  on  the  tomb  of  the  Crucified. 
Here  kings  and  emperors,  with  millions  of  every  rank  and 
of  foi-ty  or  fifty  generations,  have  knelt  and  prayed,  and 
sobbed  and  wept,  for  those  who  were  gone  not  to  return. 
Well  might  they  weep  when  standing  within  the  portals  of 
the  tomb,  in  the  presence  of  a  reahty  which  cannot  be  dis- 
guised. Cover  the  coflSn  with  flowers,  bury  it  with  wreaths 
and  garlands — that  does  not  change  the  awful  fact  of  Death. 
The  life  that  was  is  ended  ;  is  there  another  life  to  begin  ? 
For  that,  the  resurrection  of  Christ  is  our  only  hope.  Ab- 
stract arguments  for  the  immortahty  of  the  soul,  amount 
to  little.  At  best  they  enable  us  only  to  say  witli  the  an- 
cient philosophers,  "  We  hope  rather  than  beheve."  But 
if  out  of  this  sepulchre  there  has  been  a  return  of  One 
fi-om  the  unnumbered  dead,  that  is  a  pledge  of  the  resur- 
rection of  all.  This  is  the  turning-point  of  our  Faith  and 
our  Rehgion.  What  mighty  hopes  hang  upon  the  single 
fact  of  the  Resurrection  !  "  If  Christ  be  not  risen,  then 
they  that  are  fallen  asleep  in  Christ  are  perished.  But 
now  is  Christ  risen  fi'om  the  dead !  "  The  answer  to  all 
skepticism  is  this  :  "  If  we  believe  that  Christ  died  and 
rose  again,  even  so  them  also  which  sleep  in  Jesus  will 
God  bring  with  him." 

As  I  came  out  of  the  Chapel  of  the  SeiDulchre,  it  seemed 
as  if  I  were  coming  out  of  a  tomb.  "WTien  I  left  the  church, 
the  shades  of  evening  had  fallen,  and  the  gathering  daik- 
ness  reminded  me  of  another  night  that  was  fast  coming 
on,  in  which  no  man  can  work.  I  had  just  passed  a  mile- 
stone on  my  life's  journey,  and  was  a  year's  march  nearer 
to  the  grave.  But  I  had  found  strength  for  the  ine\ntable 
hour.  I  had  been  to  the  place  where  the  Lord  lay,  and 
had  seen  the  stone  roUed  away  from  the  door  of  the  sep- 


"  T    BKLIEYE    IN   THE    LIFE    EVERLASTING."        71 

ulchre,  and  seen  a  vision  of  angels  who  said  that  He  was 
alive,  I  hastened  through  the  streets  as  in  a  dream — as  if 
I  had  been  one  of  the  army  of  the  dead  laid  to  sleep  in 
Jerusalem  centuries  ago,  that  had  crept  out  of  the  tomb, 
and  was  now  fleeing  like  an  affrighted  ghost.  And  that 
night,  as  I  sat  once  more  on  the  balcony,  which  was  my 
place  of  meditation,  and  looked  up  at  the  ancient  Tower 
of  David,  around  which  Jew  and  Roman,  Turk  and  Cru- 
sader, had  fought,  and  under  whose  shadow  all  He  buried 
together,  how  Kttle  a  thing  seemed  human  life  beside  the 
monuments  which  man  himseK  had  builded !  Men  come 
and  go,  but  these  stand  fast  like  the  everlasting  hills. 
This  was  my  last  night  in  Jerusalem  ;  to-mon-ow  I  should 
depai-t  to  retui-n  no  more.  But  my  pilgrimage  had  not 
been  in  vain,  since  in  revisiting  the  scenes  of  our  Lord's 
life  and  death  and  resurrection,  I  had  found  my  faith 
strengthened  in  the  Divine  reality.  Never  had  I  so  felt 
how  comprehensive  was  that  Creed — so  brief,  so  simple, 
and  yet  so  sublime — which  has  been  repeated  for  genera- 
tions : 

I  BELIEVE  IN  God,  the  Father  Almighty,  Maker  of  heaven 

AOT)  E.\ETH  ; 

And  in  Jesijs  Christ,  His  onlv  Son,  oxm  Lord,  who  was 

CONCEB'ED    BY    THE   HoLY    GhoST,    BoRN     OF    THE  VlEGIN   MaRY, 

Suffered  under  Pontius  Phate,  Was  crucified,  dk\d,  and 
Buried.   The  third  day  He  rose  from  the  de.vd.  He  ascended 

INTO    HEAVEN,    AND    SITTETH    ON    THE    RIGHT    HAND    OF    GoD,    THE 

Father  ALivnoHTY.  .  .  . 

I  BELIEVE    ...    IN  THE  LIFE  EVERLASTING. 

It  is  enough  :  in  the  strength  of  that  great  hope  will  I 
take  up  my  pilgrim's  staff  for  the  rest  of  my  journey.  The 
future  is  dark  before  me,  but  not  with  unknown  terrors. 
Welcome  the  twilight !  welcome  the  shadows !  since 
beyond  the  darkness  shines  the  hght  of  Eternal  Day. 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

leaving  jerusalem to  bethel,  shiloh,  and 

Jacob's  well. 

At  length  the  time  had  come  when  we  must  leave 
Jerusalem.  For  eleven  days  we  had  been  going  round 
about  her  walls,  marking  her  towers  and  bulwarks,  and 
musing  in  her  desolate  places.  The  impression  had  been 
sad  and  mournful.  We  had  seen  the  Jews  wailing  at  the 
foundation  stones  of  the  ancient  temple,  and  again  cele- 
brating the  Passover,  as  if  in  all  their  sorrow  and  humil- 
iation, they  would  keep  the  memory  of  theu*  ancient 
deliverance,  and  hope  for  a  brighter  future  for  their 
country  and  their  race.  And  with  the  mosque  of  the 
Moslem  and  the  s^-nagogue  of  the  Jew,  we  had  seen  with 
far  deeper  interest  the  places  associated  with  the  life  and 
death  of  our  Blessed  Lord. 

Rich  with  such  memories,  we  were  now  to  leave  the 
holy  city  and  turn  our  steps  northwai'd,  through  Samaria 
and  Galilee,  to  Shechem  and  Nazareth,  to  the  Mount  of 
the  Beatitudes  and  the  shores  of  the  Lake  of  Galilee,  to 
Damascus,  and  to  the  glory  of  Hemion  and  of  Lebanon. 

But  a  new  journey  required  a  fi'esh  preparation.  On 
arriving  at  Jerusalem,  we  had  given  up  our  attendants,  not 


PREPARING    FOR    THE    JOURNEY.  73 

thinking  thfit  dipfnity  required  that  we  should  keep  our 
tents  standing  without  the  gates,  with  all  the  retainers  of  a 
camp,  while  we  were  lodged  at  a  hotel.  Accordingly  we 
had  parted  with  Yohanna,  the  dragoman  who  had  con- 
ducted us  from  the  Red  Sea  across  the  desert  to  Mount 
Sinai,  and  fi*om  Sinai  to  Jerusalem.  After  a  few  days  Dr. 
Post  had  been  obliged  to  retvu-n  to  Beirut,  and  I  was  left 
alone.  In  making  new  arrangements,  I  was  happy  to  fall 
once  more  among  mine  own  countrj^men.  There  were  a 
number  of  Americans  in  Jerusalem,  among  them  the  Eev. 
Dr.  Adams  of  Fall  River,  Mass.,  who  with  his  wife  had 
been  for  some  months  travelling  in  Europe  and  the  East. 
We  had  met  in  Florence  and  Rome  and  Naples,  from 
which  we  sailed  together  for  Alexandria.  We  parted  at 
Cairo  (they  going  up  the  Nile,  while  I  crossed  the  desert), 
and  met  again  at  Jerusalem,  with  mutual  congratulations 
that  we  might  now  make  a  journey  through  the  Holy 
Land  together.  Dr.  Adams  had  known  Dr.  Post  in  the 
Union  Theological  Seminary,  New  York.  I  counted  it 
extremely  fortunate  that  since  I  had  lost  the  one  as  a 
travelling  companion,  I  could  have  the  other  ;  while  the 
presence  of  an  American  lady  gave  to  our  tent-life  not  a 
little  of  the  sweet  sense  of  home. 

With  them  was  a  young  theological  student,  a  IMr. 
Weeden,  who  was  to  share  my  tent  ;  and  an  English  gen- 
tleman and  his  wife.  The  party  had  been  made  up  by  Dr. 
Adams,  who  had  engaged  as  dragoman  IVIr.  Rolla  Floyd  of 
Jaffa,  who  is  well  known  in  Palestine,  where  he  was  for 
many  years  in  charge  of  Cook's  excursion  parties.  A  few 
months  before  they  had  "  fallen  out "  on  some  matter  of 
business,  which  I  never  understood,  and  of  which  it  is  not 
worth  while  to  repeat  the  gossip  of  Jerusalem.  Their 
difference  did  not  concern  us  ;  our  wish  was  to  obtain 
the  best  possible  guide  to  Palestine,  and  that  we  believed 


74  OUR    NEW    DRAGOMAN. 

we  had  found  in  j\Ir.  Flo^-d.  He  is  an  American,  who 
went  to  Jaffa  years  ago  with  a  colony  from  Maine,  of  which 
he  is  the  only  remaining  representative.  After  the  colony 
was  broken  up,  instead  of  returning  to  America,  he  stayed 
in  Jaflfa,  and  became  a  guide  and  dragoman  to  travellers. 
He  is  a  man  of  great  intelligence,  especiall}'  in  all  matters 
which  concern  the  geography  and  the  historical  and  Bibh- 
cal  associations  of  the  Holy  Land.  He  has  the  Bible  at 
his  tongue's  end,  and  can  quote  chapter  and  verse  for  any 
place  to  which  he  comes,  from  one  end  of  the  country  to 
the  other.  At  the  same  time  he  is  a  man  of  splendid 
physique,  of  great  physical  strength  and  courage — quali- 
ties not  to  be  left  out  of  account  in  one  who  has  to  conduct 
a  party,  to  keep  the  upper  hand  of  quarrelsome  muleteers, 
as  well  as  a  sharp  lookout  against  the  thieves  who  infest 
almost  every  village,  certainly  every  favorite  camping 
ground  of  travellers.  He  took  entire  charge  of  the  expedi- 
tion, engaging  horses  and  mules  and  muleteers,  and  pro- 
viding the  tents  which  were  to  be  for  several  weeks  our 
"  house  and  home."* 

*  My  attention  was  first  called  to  Mr.  Floyd  by  the  Hon.  S.  S. 
Cox,  th»  well  known  Member  of  Congress,  whom  I  met  in  Paris, 
as  he  was  returning  from  a  brief  tour  in  the  Holy  Land.  For  the 
benefit  of  travellers  who  may  yet  have  the  same  tour  to  make, 
I  quote  the  following  from  Eev.  Joseph  Cook  : 

After  eight  years'  acquaintance  with  my  American  country- 
man, Rolla  Floyd,  I  regard  him  as  incomparably  the  most  accom- 
plished, efficient,  and  in  every  way  trustworthy  conductor  of  travel 
in  Palestine  and  Syria.  I  travelled  in  the  Holy  Land  under  his 
advice  in  1873,  and  under  his  personal  guidance  with  my  wife  in 
1881.  All  ray  prolonged  and  varied  experience  with  Mr.  Floyd 
has  convince<l  me  of  the  entire  justice  of  the  really  unmeasured 
commendation  which  it  is  well  known  has  been  heaped  upon  him 
by  hundreds  of  travellers  whom  he  has  conducted  through  the 
Holy  Land,  and  especially  by  the  London  firm  of  Cook's  Tourist 
Agency,  of  which  he  was  the  foremost  representative  in  Palestine 


TOMBS    OF   THE   KTXGS.  75 

With  such  preparations,  we  mustered  on  the  morning 
of  the  11th  of  April  at  an  inn  without  the  gate  on  the  Jaffa 
road.  Half  an  hour  was  spent  in  tiying  the  horses  that 
were  to  carry  us.  Each  one  of  the  party  mounted  several 
and  tried  their  paces,  and  when  each  had  made  his  selec- 
tion, saddles  had  to  be  adjusted,  till  at  last  all  were  satisfied, 
and  we  began  slowly  and  deliberately  o\ir  long  journe}'. 

Hardly  were  we  in  the  saddle  before  we  dismounted  at 
the  Tombs  of  the  Kings,  which  are  but  a  short  distance 
without  the  city  walls.  The  ancient  Jews,  like  the  Egyp- 
tians (from  whom  perhaps  they  derived  the  custom),  paid 
great  honor  to  their  dead,  as  we  see  in  the  Tombs  of  the 
Judges  and  the  Tombs  of  the  Prophets.  Indeed  their 
honor  to  the  dead  was  sometimes  greater  than  their  respect 
for  the  authority  of  the  living.  Christ  rebukes  them  for 
their  hyjDOcrisy  in  "building  the  tombs  of  the  prophets, 
and  garnishing  the  sepulchi'es  of  the  righteous,"  when 
their  conduct  showed  that  they  were  "  the  children  of 
them  which  killed  the  prophets."  Whether  these  Tombs 
of  the  Kings  be  really  the  place  where  the  monarchs  of 

and  Syria  for  seven  years.  This  firm  has  often  eulogized  in  the 
strongest  language  in  its  official  pamphlets  and  periodicals  his 
honesty,  courage,  intelligence,  skill  and  success  as  a  conductor  of 
travel.  It  has  pointed  with  pride  to  his  knowledge  of  the  Holy 
Land,  his  extraordinary  familiarity  with  Scriptural  allusions  to 
the  sacred  places,  his  perfect  command  of  the  Arabic  language, 
and  the  universal  esteem  in  which  he  is  held  by  the  Arabs,  and 
even  by  the  Bedaween  tribes.  Acting  now  as  an  independent  con- 
ductor of  travel,  Mr.  Floyd  is  sometimes  treated  by  powerful  tour- 
ist agencies  as  a  dangerous  rival.  It  remains  true,  however,  that 
the  commendations  just  cited  are  thoroughly  deserved,  and  that 
his  eleven  years  of  experience  as  a  guide  has  made  him  unsur- 
passable in  his  department.  I  take  pleasure  in  commending  him 
to  the  visitors  of  the  Holy  Land,  and  I  write  this  testimonial  with- 
out his  solicitation.  Joseph  Cook  (Boston). 
Jaffa,  Palestine,  Dee.  15,  1881. 


7G  T.AST   SIGHT    OF   JERUSALEM. 

Judah  and  of  Israel  were  laid,  is  uncertain  ;  but  at  least 
here  was  a  gi'and  mausoleum.  Descending  a  broad  flight 
of  steps,  we  find  ourselves  in  a  large  coiu*t,  which  opens 
into  numerous  side  chambers,  where  successive  kings  were 
laid  in  their  royal  house  of  death.  Alas,  that  such  a  vast 
subterranean  temple,  chiselled  out  of  the  solid  rock,  could 
not  keep  their  dust.  The  tombs  are  tenantless,  the  sepul- 
clu-es  are  emjity — even  the  ver>'  names  of  those  who  once 
slei:)t  here  ai'e  unknown.  Such  is  the  fate  of  the  gi'eatest 
as  well  as  the  least  of  those  who  are  born  to  die.  It  is  not 
only  "  dust  to  dust,"  but  dust  to  obHvion. 

A  little  farther  on  oiu'  way,  we  reached  the  top  of 
Scopus,  that  broad  plateau  on  which  Titus  camped  with 
his  army  for  the  fatal  siege.  Here  we  reined  in  our  horses, 
and  turned  to  take  a  last  look  at  Jerusalem.  We  coiild 
not  see  it  very  clearly,  as  a  wind  from  the  sea  had  blown 
up  a  mist  which  hung  over  the  city ;  yet  we  could  trace 
the  line  of  the  walls  by  the  towers  which  rose  above  them, 
and  which  were  surmounted  in  turn  by  the  Mosque  of 
Omar,  as  we  had  often  seen  the  mightier  dome  of  St.  Paul's 
towering  through  the  cloud  that  hangs  over  London.  And 
thus,  while  we  gazed  with  lingering  eyes,  the  vision  seemed 
to  fade  away  like  a  phantom  city,  and  with  it  our  last 
sight  of  the  eai*thly  Jerusalem. 

Tui-ning  to  pursue  our  journey,  we  have  an  opportunity 
to  siu-vey  our  party  as  it  stretches  along  the  line  of  march. 
All  are  mounted  on  horses,  except  the  English  lady,  who 
not  being  strong  enough  to  undertake  a  thi'ee  weeks'  ride, 
is  carried  in  a  palanquin,  a  huge  affair,  bome  by  two 
mules.  If  we  had  had  a  broad  and  level  road  before  us,  it 
might  have  been  swung  between  them,  as  a  sort  of  ham- 
mock is  sometimes  swung  between  two  camels  on  the 
desert.  But  the  bridle-paths  of  Palestine  are  quite  too 
narrow  for  two  mules,  or  two  horses,  or  even  two  small 


OUll    PARTY — Till]    MODERN    CRUSADERS,  77 

donkeys,  to  go  abreast.  So  one  of  the  ratdes  is  harnessed 
in  front,  wliOe  the  other  comes  behind.  They  are  hup:e 
creatures,  hwge  and  strong,  as  they  need  to  be  to  suppoi-t 
such  a  load,  going  up  and  down  the  rocky  hills  of  Palestine. 
The  palanquin  is  very  cumbrous  and  awkward  ;  but  the 
lady  who  sits  in  it  says  that  it  is  not  uncomfoiiable  ;  while 
its  very  hugeness  gives  an  air  of  grandeur  and  dignity  to  our 
whole  party.  Gathered  rovmd  such  a  "  chariot,"  we  who  are 
outriders,  feel  as  if  we  were  a  royal  escort,  attending  the 
Queen  of  Sheba  on  her  way  to  pay  a  visit  to  King  Solomon. 
There  is  nothing  hke  imagination  to  give  a  touch  of 
majesty  to  one's  goings,  and  convert  an  ordinary  ride  into 
a  royal  progress.  Sitting  erect  on  my  Syrian  steed,  I  fancy 
myself  a  Crusader  taking  the  field  for  the  recovery  of  the 
Holy  Sepulchre,  and  whisper  soUo  voce  the  opening  line  of 
Spenser's  Fairy  Queen : 

"A  gentle  knight  came  pricking  o'er  the  plain  " 

— a  description  which  apj^Hes  perfectly  to  the  present 
rider,  except  that  he  is  7iot  "  a  gentle  knight  "  ;  that  "  the 
plain  "  is  a  succession  of  rough  hills  ;  and  that  instead  of 
"  pricking  over  "  them,  we  rarely  go  out  of  a  walk.  "With 
these  exceptions,  the  resemblance  is  complete  ;  though  it 
is  reduced  pretty  much  to  this,  that,  like  the  "  gentle 
knight,"  I  am  mounted  on  horseback,  and  riding  in  the 
land  of  the  Cnisaders. 

If  our  march  be  slow,  so  much  the  better  opportunity 
does  it  give  to  observe  the  country  and  study  the  jDhysical 
geography  of  Palestine.  The  best  substitute  for  personal 
observation  is  a  good  "raised  map,"  which  gives  the  moun- 
tains in  rehef,  with  the  gTeat  depression  of  the  Jordan  and 
the  Dead  Sea.  A  glance  vrill  show  how  Palestine  is  divided 
by  a  mountain  ridge,  which  forms  the  backbone  of  the 
country.     This  ridge  is  seamed  and  scarred  throughout  its 


78  GEOGRAPHY    OF    PALESTINE. 

whole  length,  and  its  sides  cut  into  ravines,  through  which 
a  hundred  streams,  from  the  pouiing  of  the  annual  rains, 
run  off  to  the  Jordan  and  the  Dead  Sea  on  one  side,  or  the 
MediteiTanean  on  the  other.  As  the  hills  are  all  of  strati- 
fied limestone,  the  rains  which  have  denuded  them  of  vege- 
tation have  laid  bare  the  rocks,  and  given  them  a  very- 
desolate  appearance.  At  this  season  of  the  year — the 
month  of  April — this  desolation  is  relieved  by  the  innu- 
merable wild  flowers  which  deck  the  hillsides,  and  the 
hars^ests  which  are  ripening  in  the  valleys  between  :  for  it 
is  now  "  the  time  of  barley-harvest." 

But  if  the  country  were  ever  so  cheerless,  its  associa- 
tions clothe  it  with  a  majesty  that  is  more  attractive  than 
grand  scenery  or  iDrilliant  vegetation.  As  we  turned  away 
fi"om  Jenisalem,  and  began  to  look  round  the  horizon,  the 
most  commanding  object  to  the  West  was  the  ancient  hill 
of  ]\Iizpeh  (a  noble  height,  three  thousand  feet  above  the 
sea),  which  fi'om  the  earliest  times  was  a  watch-tower  from 
which  the  Hebrew  sentinels  surveyed  not  only  the  Plain  of 
Sharon  at  its  foot,  but  the  whole  country  from  Hebron  to 
Moiint  Carmel,  and  from  the  Mediterranean  to  the  moun- 
tains of  Moab — a  summit  which  takes  its  present  name, 
Neby  Samwill,  from  the  tradition  that  makes  it  at  once  the 
birth-place  and  the  burial-jilace  of  the  prophet  Samuel. 
Here  Saul  came  to  him,  and  was  chosen  by  him,  and 
anointed  to  be  King  of  Israel  ;  and  here  he  mustered  "  all 
the  children  of  Israel "  "  fi'om  Dan  to  Beersheba,  with  the 
land  of  Gilead  "  (which  is  beyond  the  Jordan),  presenting 
an  array  of  "four  hundred  thousand  men  that  di'ew 
sword."  Such  are  the  stirring  memories  that  gather 
round  these  hoary  summits,  which,  as  they  come  upon  us 
to-day,  seem  to  cast  mighty  shadows  on  the  mountains, 
like  the  flying  clouds  which  are  at  this  moment  rolling 
upward  from  the  Mediten'anean. 


SACRED  ASSOCIATIONS    OF    PLACES.  79 

As  we  continued  our  journey  we  passed  parties  of 
pilgrims  wlio  had  come  up  to  Jeinisalem  to  witness  the 
services  of  Holy  Week,  and  now  were  retiu'ning  to  their 
homes,  just  as  the  ancient  Jews  returned  from  keeping  the 
Passover,  In  such  a  company  often  was  found  the  Saviour 
himself,  passing  over  this  very  road,  which  is  the  road  to 
Nazareth.  Indeed,  one  of  the  places  through  which  we 
passed,  Beeroth,  a  town  in  Benjamin,  where  we  stopped  to 
take  oiu'  midday  rest,  is  designated  by  tradition  (which 
must  find  a  site  for  every  incident  in  sacred  story)  as  that 
where  Joseph  and  Mary  first  missed  from  the  caravan  the 
wonderfid  child,  and  returned  to  Jenisalem  to  find  him  in 
the  Temple  disputing  with  the  doctors. 

Other  names  of  hamlets  remind  us  that  we  are  passing 
over  jjlaces  familiar  in  the  Old  Testament,  such  as  Nob  and 
Gibbeah,  and  Ataroth  and  Rock  Rimmon.  Just  now  we 
are  riding  through  Ramah,  and  instantly  recurs  that  most 
pathetic  passage  :  "  In  Rama  was  there  a  voice  heard, 
lamentation  and  weeping,  and  gi'eat  mourning,  Rachel 
weeping  for  her  children,  and  would  not  be  comforted, 
because  they  are  not."  As  we  think  of  the  bereaved 
mother,  the  whisperings  of  sorrow  seem  still  to  rise  from 
the  ground  that  has  been  wet  with  her  tears,  and  to  fill  the 
ail'  that  has  trembled  with  the  voice  of  her  lamentation. 

This  region  is  ftdl  of  patriarchal  memories.  Do  you 
see  that  hill  yonder,  rising  on  the  opposite  side  of  a  soft 
green  vaUey  ?  That  is  Bethel — the  \ery  spot  where  Abra- 
ham, when  a  wanderer  "journeying  towards  the  South," 
"  pitched  his  tent,"  and  "  builded  an  altai*  unto  the  Lord  " 
(Genesis  xii.  8),  and  to  which  Jacob  returned  as  a  place  of 
holy  visitations,  and  casting  himself  on  the  ground,  with  a 
stone  for  a  pOlow,  saw  a  ladder  whose  top  reached  to 
heaven,  and  the  angels  of  God  ascending  and  descending 
upon  it.     It  were  easy  to  make  light  of  these  sacred  associ- 


80  BETH  EI.. 

ations,  especially  when  we  see  sucli  hallowed  places  dese- 
crated by  a  wretched  village  and  a  miserable  popiilation. 
But  to  a  devout  mind,  whose  thoughts  are  far  away  on 
times  long  gone,  there  is  an  insiDiration  in  the  thought  that 
this  very  ground  has  been  touched  by  angels'  feet  ;  that 
here  on  this  rocky  height,  the  patriarch,  choosing  one  of 
its  stones  on  which  to  rest  his  weary  head,  fell  asleep,  and 
to  his  closed  eyes  there  came  the  heavenly  vision.  May 
we  not  find  in  the  wanderings  of  that  ancient  pilgrim,  a 
type  of  om'  own  wanderings  through  this  world,  and  pray 
that  in  our  loneliness,  in  the  darkness  of  the  night,  we  may 
catch  some  gUmpse  of  an  opened  heaven,  and  so  be 
brought  nearer  to  God  : 

"  Though  like  the  wanderer, 

The  sun  gone  down, 
Darkness  be  over  me, 

My  rest  a  stone. 
Yet  in  my  dreams  I'd  be 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee, 

Nearer  to  thee. 

Continuing  our  journey,  we  passed  over  a  rugged  coun- 
try, sometimes  riding  on  the  very  crest  of  the  hills,  and 
then  descending  into  valleys  green  with  the  freshness  of 
the  early  Spring,  which  were  aU  the  more  beautiful  fi'om 
contrast  with  the  rocky  hillsides.  The  constant  ascents 
and  descents,  and  windings  here  and  there,  gave  a  pleas- 
ant variety  to  our  ride,  which  made  us  forget  the  rough- 
ness of  the  path  beneath  our  feet.  Some  of  the  valleys 
were  mere  deUs,  whose  narrowness,  so  closely  were  they 
shut  in  by  the  hills,  was  unpleasantly  suggestive  of  such 
interruptions  to  the  pleasure  of  travel  as  befeU  the  man 
who  went  down  to  Jericho,  for  indeed  nothing  is  easier 
than  to  "  fall  among  thieves."  Just  here,  where  a  rising 
cliff  offers  a  grateful  shade  from  the  afternoon  sun,  and  the 


SIN.IIL WATCHING    AGAINST   THIEVES.  81 

water  trickling  down  the  face  of  the  rock  is  as  cooling  as 
if  di-ipping  fi-om  "  the  moss-covered  bucket  that  hangs  in 
the  well,"  it  adds  to  the  charm  of  the  secluded  spot  to  be 
reminded  that  this  is  the  famous  Robbers'  Fountain,  near 
which  several  caves  offer  convenient  hiding  places  from 
which  they  might  spring  out  on  the  unsuspecting  traveller. 
However,  we  rode  on  with  no  interruption,  receiving  only 
pleasant  salutations  from  the  people  in  the  villages  or  at 
work  in  the  fields,  or  the  pilgrims  who  were  keeping  their 
homewaj'd  march. 

As  it  drew  towards  evening,  we  turned  from  our  for- 
ward course  and  rode  up  a  hillside  to  the  little  hamlet  of 
Sinjil,  where  we  halted  at  a  well  known  camping  ground 
for  travellers.  We  were  not  surprised  that  parties  Uked  to 
camp  there,  for  the  situation  is  beautiful — on  a  hiU-top 
which  commands  a  wide  outlook  over  the  country'.  Here 
we  pitched  oiu*  tents  near  the  village,  whose  neighborhood 
might  give  us  a  sense  of  protection — the  first  thing  to  be 
thought  of  in  travelling  through  Palestine.  Hardly  were 
the  horses  unsaddled  and  picketed  before  the  dragoman 
sent  to  the  head-man  of  the  village  for  a  guard  to  make  us 
safe  against  marauders,  to  which  he  received  the  pleasing 
answer  that  the  appointed  "  guardians  of  the  peace  "  were 
"  unavoidably  detained,"  for  the  reason  that  he  had  sent 
guards  for  two  pai'ties  before  us,  both  of  which  had  found 
the  temptation  so  gi*eat,  that  instead  of  keeping  off  thieves, 
they  had  turned  robbers  themselves,  for  which  they  had 
been  aiTcsted  and  thrown  into  prison !  Indeed,  to  confess 
the  whole  truth,  he  had  been  so  unfortunate  that  a  dozen 
of  his  faithful  seiwants  were  now  in  jail  at  Nablous  for 
making  too  free  with  the  property  of  travellers.  Being 
thus  deprived  of  our  "  natural  protectors,"  the  dragoman 
was  obliged  to  fall  back  on  his  own  trusty  revolvers.  He 
took  out  his  brace  of  six-baiTelled  pistols,  to  see  that  they 


82  IN'    THK    'I'KRinTOUY    OF    KPIIRAl.xr. 

were  loaded,  and  sticking  them  in  his  belt,  sent  word  to 
the  sheildi  that  he  intended  to  stand  guard  himself,  and 
advised  him  to  look  out  that  none  of  his  thieWsh  rascals 
came  within  range.  The  hint  was  not  lost  :  not  a  mouse 
stirred.  True,  the  muleteers  passed  an  anxious  night,  as 
they  had  to  alternate  in  watches  ;  while  poor  Floyd  slept 
\\'ith  one  eye  open,  or  rather  did  not  sleep  at  all.  But 
thanks  to  such  protection,  we  slept  as  tranquilly  as  if  we 
had  been  in  a  quiet  New  England  village. 

But  whatever  the  watchings  or  the  dangers  of  the  night, 
the  rising  sun  drove  away  all  such  thoughts,  as  it  dispelled 
the  mists  that  rose  up  from  the  valley  below,  and  we  were 
soon  in  the  saddle,  "  pricking  "  over  the  hills  and  winding 
through  the  valleys  with  exquisite  delight. 

Already  in  a  single  day's  journey  we  had  been  in  the 
territory  of  three  of  the  Jewish  tribes.  Starting  from  that 
of  Judah,  we  had  j^assed  through  "the  lot  of  Benjamin,"  and 
entered  into  the  larger  and  broader  territory  of  Ephraim, 
the  central  region  of  Palestine,  and  one  of  remarkable 
fertility.  In  the  allotments  to  the  different  tribes,  a  special 
inheritance  fell  to  the  house  of  Joseph.  TSTien  Jacob 
called  his  sons  around  his  deathbed,  to  tell  them  what 
should  befall  them  in  the  last  days,  he  said  :  "  Joseph  is  a 
finiitful  bough  by  a  weU,  whose  branches  nin  over  the 
wall.  The  archers  have  sorely  grieved  him,  and  shot  at 
him,  and  hated  him.  But  his  bow  abode  in  strength,  and 
the  arms  of  his  hands  were  made  strong  by  the  hands  of 
the  mighty  God  of  Jacob  "  ;  and  then  foretold  for  him 
and  his  descendants  great  temporal  prosperity  as  the 
reward  of  fiHal  love — a  benediction  which  is  repeated  in 
the  words  of  the  dying  Moses  : 

And  of  Joseph  he  said,  Blessed  of  the  Lord  be  his  land,  for 
the  precious  things  of  heaven,  for  the  dew,  and  for  the  deep  that 
coucheth  beneath. 


sniLorr.  83 

And  for  the  precious  fruits  brought  forth  by  th«  sun,  and  for 
the  precious  things  put  forth  b}'  the  moon, 

And  for  the  chief  things  of  the  ancient  mountains,  and  for  the 
precious  things  of  the  lasting  hills. 

And  for  the  precious  things  of  the  earth  and  fulness  thereof, 
and  for  the  good  will  of  him  that  dwelt  in  the  bush  :  let  the  bless- 
ing come  upon  the  head  of  Joseph,  and  upon  the  top  of  the  head 
of  him  that  was  separated  from  his  brethren. 

His  glory  is  like  the  firstling  of  his  bullock,  and  his  horns  are 
like  the  horns  of  unicorns :  with  them  he  shall  push  the  people 
together  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  :  and  they  are  the  ten  thousands 
of  Ephraim,  and  they  are  the  thousands  of  Manasseh. 

Of  course  the  glory  of  that  ancient  time  has  passed 
away,  but  something  of  the  beauty  of  Ejjhraim  lingers  still 
in  these  hills  and  valleys.  Many  of  the  hillsides,  through 
which  the  strata  of  rock  crop  out  here  and  there,  are  culti- 
vated ;  the  remains  of  old  terraces  still  bear  orchards  of 
olives  and  fig  trees  ;  while  the  valleys  remind  us  of  that 
South  Country  which  so  enchanted  us  as  we  came  up  out 
of  the  desert.  Nor  is  Ephraim  wanting  in  ancient  and 
sacred  associations.  On  the  contrary  it  is  much  older  than 
Judah.  Our  ride  this  morning  led  across  a  fertile  plain, 
on  which  rose  a  gentle  eminence  marked  by  some  old 
ruins.  This  was  Shiloh,  the  very  centre  of  the  first  He- 
brew State,  where  the  Tabernacle  was  set  up  and  the  Ark 
of  the  Lord  was  kept  hundreds  of  years  before  the  build- 
ing of  the  Temple.  Here  the  tribes  gathered  as  in  later 
times  at  Jerusalem.  Here  Hved  the  prophet  Eli  till  he 
was  nearly  a  hundred  years  old,  when  he  fell  at  the  tidings 
that  the  Ark  of  God  was  taken.  "What  interest  gathers 
round  these  ancient  altars !  How  they  tell  the  story  of  an 
age  when  the  religion  was  the  government,  and  the  prophet 
a  judge.  "  He  had  judged  Israel  forty  years."  This  spot 
links  together  two  periods  of  Jewish  history — Eli,  the  last 
of  the  Judges,  with  Samuel,  who  grew  up  at  his  feet,  and 
who  anointed  Saul,  the  first  of  the  line  of  Kings. 


84  JACOB'S   WELL. 

Other  sacred  scenes  rose  in  sight  before  the  day  was 
over.  About  noon  we  came  out  upon  a  hill-top  Avhich 
commanded  a  riew  for  many  miles  up  the  great  plain  of 
Mukhna,  where  Jacob  fed  his  flocks,  with  Mount  Gerizim 
in  the  distance.  Pursuing  our  way  in  the  afternoon,  we 
came  to  Sychar,  "  where  was  a  well "  which  was  dug  by 
fatlier  Jacob  himself,  and  where  more  than  seventeen  hun- 
dred years  later  Jesus  sat  and  talked  to  the  woman  of 
Samaria. 

Here  we  dismounted,  and  sat  down  by  the  well,  which 
had  such  sacred  memories.  There  was  at  first  a  feehng  of 
disappointment  to  find  it  a  neglected  spot.  Its  desolate 
appearance  makes  some  almost  regret  to  have  seen  it, 
while  others  keep  awa}-  lest  the  sight  should  be  even  pain- 
ful, as  it  dispelled  their  hallowed  associations.  In  the 
conversation  with  ]Mr.  Spurgeon,  to  which  I  have  referred, 
he  said  mth  a  good  deal  of  vehemence  that  "nothing 
coidd  induce  him  to  visit  the  Holy  Land,"  in  support  of 
which  he  related  the  experience  of  a  fiiend  (I  think  an 
American  clergyman)  on  this  very  spot,  to  which  he  had 
come  as  a  holy  place,  thinking  how  he  would  "  sit  on  the 
well,"  as  his  Master  did,  and  taking  out  his  Bible,  read 
again  the  beautiful  story  of  Christ's  conversation  with  the 
woman  of  Samaria,  musing  on  the  wonderfid  scene  with 
tender  emotion.  But,  said  IVIi'.  Spurgeon,  when  he  came 
to  the  spot,  he  found  it  neglected  and  desolate,  and  his 
devout  meditations  interrupted  by  a  crowd  of  importunate 
beggars,  clamoring  for  backsheesh !  This  was  a  dismal 
prospect  to  set  before  a  traveller  just  starting  for  the  East, 
"  going  bound  in  the  spirit  unto  Jerusalem."  But  our 
experience  was  more  foriunate.  We  had  no  annoyance. 
To  be  sure,  the  place  is  neglected.  But  that  mattered 
little  ;  it  would  not  have  helped  the  impression  if  we  had 
come  upon  a  spring  al)undant  as  that  of  Elisha  at  Jericho, 


JOSEPH'S    TOMB.  85 

bubbling  up  in  a  marble  fountain.  Here  was  nothing  but 
an  old  well — old  indeed,  for  it  was  dug  by  our  father  Jacob 
more  than  thi*ee  thousand  years  ago.  This  is  one  of  the  few 
spots  in  Palestine  whose  identity  is  almost  cei^tain,  and  which 
is  therefore  truly  venerable.  It  is  not  the  well  of  Herod, 
or  of  any  of  the  Roman  conquerors,  but  of  one  whose  very 
name  gave  it  a  sacredness  even  before  the  time  of  Christ, 
and  to  which  he  came  as  a  hallowed  spot.  Here  the  patri- 
ai'ch  lived  with  all  his  sons  around  him,  save  one  whom  he 
supposed  to  be  dead,  but  who  had  been  sold  into  captivity 
and  carried  down  to  Egypt,  and  there  risen  to  power,  to 
be  in  time  the  savior  of  his  father's  house.  To  that  long- 
lost  son,  in  memory  of  his  filial  devotion,  Jacob  gave  this 
very  plot  of  ground  on  which  we  are  now  standing,  and  in 
which,  two  hundred  years  after  his  death,  his  body  was 
laid.  There  are  few  more  touching  illustrations  of  a  love 
strong  in  death — the  love  of  one's  early  home,  such  as  to 
make  him  desire  to  be  buried  near  the  spot  where  he  was 
born — than  the  last  command  of  Joseph.  He  was  about 
to  die — to  die  in  Eg^^ot,  amid  all  the  splendor  of  the  court 
of  Pharaoh.  But  at  that  moment  his  thoughts  were  not 
on  the  banks  of  the  Nile  ;  they  wandered  back  to  the 
scenes  of  his  childhood,  to  the  time  when  he  had  been  a 
shepherd's  boy  and  kept  his  father's  flock  ;  and  calling  his 
brethren  around  him,  he  said  "  I  die  ;  but  God  will  surely 
visit  you,  and  bring  you  out  of  this  land  unto  the  land 
which  he  sware  to  Abraham,  to  Isaac,  and  to  Jacob.  And 
Joseph  took  an  oath  of  the  children  of  Israel,  saying  God 
will  surelj'  visit  you,  and  ye  shall  caiTy  up  my  bones  from 
hence.  So  Joseph  died,  being  an  hundi'ed  and  ten  years 
old  ;  and  they  embalmed  him,  and  he  was  put  in  a  coffin 
in  Egypt."  But  there  he  was  not  to  remain.  "When  came 
the  time  of  the  Exodus  of  the  IsraeUtes,  his  bones  were 
taken  with  pious  care,  and  carried  with  them  in  all  their 


86  jacoh'h  well. 

marches,  till  finally  laid  to  rest  in  this  veiy  piece  of 
ground,  which  his  father  Jacob  bought  for  a  portion  for 
him. 

Joseph's  Tomb  is  but  a  short  distance  from  Jacob's 
Well,  into  which  we  are  now  looking  down.  The  top 
has  been  partly  arched  over,  coveiing  a  little  space  around 
what  we  should  call  the  "  curb  "  of  the  well.  The  drago- 
man gave  me  his  strong  arm,  and  lifting  me  over  this  upper 
and  outer  rim,  let  me  down  a  few  feet  to  a  point  fi'om 
which  I  got  a  nearer  view  of  the  depth  below.  Exj^lorers 
who  have  measured  it  have  found  it  over  a  hundred  feet 
deep,  but  a  part  of  this  has  been  filled  up  by  the  stones 
cast  into  it. 

But  how  came  Jacob  to  dig  such  a  well  ?  is  a  question 
often  asked.  He  was  close  to  the  Vale  of  Shechem,  which 
is  full  of  streams.  What  need  of  boring  a  hundred  feet 
through  the  solid  rock  to  find  what  a  mUe  or  two  distant 
was  running  away  in  exhaustless  abundance  ?  The  answer 
is  that  neighbors  are  not  always  fi'iends ;  that  the  inhab- 
itants of  the  towns  and  the  shepherds  of  the  plains  had 
little  to  do  with  each  other,  and  even  might  be  in  open 
feud.  In  the  time  of  Christ  "the  Jews  had  no  dealings 
with  the  Samaritans,"  and  seventeen  hundred  years  before 
the  progenitor  of  the  Hebrew  race  may  have  been  to  them 
a  stranger  and  an  alien.  The  people  of  Shechem  might  be 
friendly  to-day,  and  enemies  to-morrow  ;  and  though  they 
might  have  water  flowing  through  their  city,  they  might  at 
any  moment  shut  it  off  from  him.  With  all  his  flocks  and 
herds,  he  could  not  be  dependent  on  such  an  uncertain 
supply.  And  so  he  dug  this  well,  "  and  di'ank  thereof 
himself,  and  his  children,  and  his  cattle."  The  woman  of 
Samaria,  who  came  here  to  di'aw  water,  had  probably  been 
out  on  the  plain  tending  the  flocks,  and  at  the  sixth  hour 
— noon — had  no  other  spring  to  go  to  but  Jacob's  WeD. 


BETWEEN    KBAL    AND    GERIZLM.  87 

But  tlie  chief  interest  of  this  spot  is  that  One  greater 
than  Jacob  or  Joseph  has  been  here.  On  this  very  ground, 
sitting  where  we  now  sit,  our  Saviour  sat,  and  talked  with 
the  woman  of  Samaria,  reveahng  to  her  astonished  eyes 
that  in  the  worship  of  God  the  place  matters  Httle  ;  that 
"  neither  in  this  mountain,"  looking  up  to  Gerizim  which 
rose  above  them,  "  nor  yet  at  Jerusalem,"  shall  men  "  wor- 
ship the  Father  ":  for  that  "  God  is  a  spirit,  and  they  that 
worship  him  must  worship  him  in  spirit  and  in  truth." 

"With  such  thoughts  of  the  Great  Master,  whose  pres- 
ence has  touched  all  these  heights  and  valleys  with  a  glory 
like  that  of  the  setting  sun,  which  now  gilds  the  tops  of 
Ebal  and  Gerizim,  we  mounted  our  horses  and  rode 
through  the  narrow  valley  which  separates  them,  and 
passing  roiind  the  town,  camped  under  some  old  olive 
trees  at  its  western  end,  at  the  foot  of  Moimt  Gerizim. 
We  were  now  in  Nablous,  the  ancient  Shechem.  As  our 
visit  here  was  somewhat  full  of  incident,  it  is  worthy  of  a 
fuller  description. 


CHAPTER  Vm. 

NABLOUS A  DAY    THAT  AVAS    NOT    ALL   SUNSHINE — 

A  TALE  OF  ROBBERY  AND  OF  TURKISH  JUSTICE. 

In  "  wandering  throtigb  the  -wildeiTiess  of  this  world," 
I  have  had  varied  exjDeriences — days  that  were  bright  and 
days  that  were  dark,  and  days  that  were  both  bright  and 
dark,  cloud  and  sunshine  following  each  other  in  quick 
succession.  But  not  many  days  have  I  had  am'where  the 
experience  of  which  was  so  far  from  previous  expectation, 
as  that  we  spent  in  the  ancient  city  of  Nablous.  As  we 
entered  the  valley,  there  was  something  in  the  very  atmos- 
phere which  revived  us.  We  were  greeted  with  the  sound 
of  running  streams  (there  are  said  to  be  seventy  springs 
issuing  from  the  hills),  wliich  nish  joyously  tlu'ough  the 
valley.  We  were  entering  a  city  of  Samaria  whose  history 
goes  back  to  the  time  of  the  Captivity,  when  the  Ten 
Tribes  were  carried  away  to  Assyria,  and  earlier  still,  to 
the  days  when  Jacob  fed  his  flocks  on  the  adjacent  plain. 
We  had  come  up  from  Jacob's  Well,  the  place  where  our 
Lord  had  been,  and  passed  between  Mount  Ebal  and 
Movmt  Gerizim,  from  wliich  it  seemed  as  if  alternate  bless- 
ing and  cursing  rolled  over  our  heads.  And  now  we  were 
camped  at  the  foot  of  Gerizim,  the  mount  of  blessing,  the 
very  clouds  of  which  ought  to  rain  perpetual  benediction. 


NABLOUS.  89 

As  we  approached  our  camping  ground,  Floyd  recog- 
nized an  old  acquaintance  in  tlie  person  of  an  English 
missionary,  Mr.  El  Karey,  long  resident  in  Nablous,  who 
followed  us  to  our  tents,  and  after  a  kindly  welcome,  offered 
to  conduct  us  through  the  town,  that  is  worth  seeing,  as 
it  is  next  to  Jerusalem  in  population,  which  it  far  siu'passes 
in  commercial  activity.  Nablous  is  one  of  the  few  places 
in  the  East  that  have  been  touched  with  the  business  life 
of  the  modern  world.  It  seemed  as  if  the  rushing  streams 
had  communicated  to  the  people  a  little  of  their  own  rapid 
movement.  At  least  they  have  set  the  wheels  of  industry 
in  motion.  Besides  the  oil  presses  which  receive  the 
abundant  yield  of  the  oKve  orchards  that  we  have  seen  aU 
along  our  course,  and  turn  it  into  oU,  there  are  some 
twenty  factories  engaged  in  turning  the  oil  into  soap, 
which  has  become  a  large  article  of  export  to  Jaffa  and 
Beirut,  and  thence  to  aU  the  jDorts  of  the  Mediterranean. 
It  was  really  refreshing,  after  passing  through  so  many 
places  that  were  more  dead  than  alive,  to  come  to  one  town 
that  showed  a  sign  of  life  in  this  sleepy  old  country. 

But  the  chief  interest  of  Nablous  to  a  traveller  is  that  it 
introduces  him  to  the  Samaritans.  It  is  the  only  place  in 
Palestine  where  there  is  a  remnant  of  this  ancient  sect. 
In  the  town  of  Samaria  itseK  there  are  no  Samaritans  ;  all 
are  at  Nablous,  and  here  they  are  very  few,  and  fast  fading 
away.  A  hundred  and  fifty  souls  is  the  whole  remnant  of 
the  Samaritan  people,  counting  men,  women,  and  children ! 
Their  fewness  and  feebleness  are  indicated  by  the  pettiness 
of  their  synagogue — a  small  room,  with  bare  whitewashed 
walls  ;  and  yet  it  contains  a  manuscript  of  the  Pentateuch 
(their  Bible  is  limited  to  the  Five  Books  of  Moses)  which 
they  aflirm  is  the  oldest  in  the  world,  and  regard  as  a 
priceless  treasure.  They  claim  that  it  was  written  by  a 
great-grandson  of  Aaron  ;  certainly  it  is  yellow  enough  to 


90  THE   SAMARITANS. 

have  come  out  of  the  Ark.  They  are  such  a  "  feeble  folk," 
so  few  and  so  poor,  that  the  high  priest  (a  descendant  of 
the  tribe  of  Levi)  ekes  out  a  living  by  showing  travellers 
the  s;;i'nagogue  and  the  sacred  scroll,  and  even  oflfered  to 
sell  us  his  photograph  !  And  yet  such  is  the  pride  of  an 
ancient  race,  that  this  handful  of  Samaritans  still  cling  to 
the  beHef  that  they,  and  they  only,  are  the  time  people  of 
God.  Three  times  a  year  they  go  up  on  Mount  Geiizim, 
and  keep  the  festivals  prescribed  by  the  law  of  Moses, 
while  they  celebrate  the  Passover  by  sacrifices — the  only 
people  professing  to  worship  Jehovah,  who  continue  that 
ancient  rite.  Mount  Geiizim  is  the  only  place  in  the 
world  where  still  ascends  the  smoke  of  sacrifice.  The 
Passover  is  kept  with  the  strictest  obsei-vance  of  every 
detail  enjoined  by  Moses,  with  the  hui'ried  repast  of  bitter 
herbs  and  unleavened  bread,  while  they  eat  the  Paschal 
lamb  with  gircUes  about  their  loins,  and  staff  in  hand,  as  if 
preparing  for  instant  flight.  "V\Tiat  is  left  is  burned  with 
fire,  in  imitation  of  the  ancient  Israelites,  who  left  only 
ashes  behind  them,  as  they  tirnied  their  backs  on  Egypt, 
and  took  up  their  march  through  the  desert.  The  con- 
tinued existence  of  such  a  fragment  of  people  is  an  extra- 
ordinary spectacle,  and  is  a  subject  for  study.  I  hardly 
know  anywhere  of  an  instance  of  such  tenacity  of  belief. 
Here  is  a  sect  which  was  in  existence  in  the  time  of  Christ, 
and  probably  hundreds  of  yeai's  before  :  for  it  is  sujDj^osed 
to  date  from  the  time  of  Nehemiah,  when,  not  being  per- 
mitted to  share  in  the  rebuilding  of  the  Temple,  they  sepa- 
rated themselves  from  the  Jews  ;  which  has  lived  through 
all  the  storms  and  persecutions  of  more  than  two  thousand 
yeai's  ;  and  which,  it  may  be,  will  not  die  tiU  it  dies  with 
the  race.  If  there  comes  a  time  when  there  is  a  "  last 
man,"  it  would  be  in  keeping  with  the  spirit  of  his  race  if 
he  were  to  go  up  on  Mount  Gerizim,  and  there  build  an 


'I'HE    B  EDA  WE  EX.  91 

altai'  unto  the  Lord,  and  kindlinj^  a  sacrifice,  lie  down  to 
die,  that  the  flame  of  sacrifice  and  the  flame  of  life  might 
expire  together. 

After  our  exciu'sion,  IVIr.  El  Karey  returned  with  us  to 
camp,  and  we  kept  him  to  dinner.  "With  true  American 
inquisitiveness,  I  plied  him  with  aU  sorts  of  questions 
about  the  country  and  the  people.  He  liked  the  town 
very  much.  Indeed  I  believe  he  was  bom  here :  his  name 
is  Eastern,  though  he  was  educated  in  England.  He  liked 
the  people,  although  they  are  ver}-  bigoted  and  fanatical 
Moslems  ;  and  when  he  first  came  in  contact  with  them  as 
a  missionary,  the  relation  was  not  at  all  pleasant.  But 
acquaintance  and  intercourse  had  gradually  softened  their 
animosity.  In  one  respect  he  paid  a  high  tribute  to  their 
vii-tue.  He  said  that  anything  hke  pubHc  prostitution, 
the  open  and  vmblushing  licentiousness  which  is  the  dis- 
grace of  Eiu'opean  cities,  was  here  absolutely  unknown. 
It  will  be  said  that  the  Moslem  religion  legalizes  impurity 
in  another  form,  by  its  domestic  customs.  But  whatever 
the  explanation,  this  seemed  to  me  a  very  extraordinary 
testimony  to  be  borne  to  a  Moslem  people  by  a  Christian 
missionary. 

He  told  us  many  things  about  the  Bedaween.  He  had 
made  frequent  excursions  to  the  other  side  of  the  Jordan, 
where  there  are  some  powerful  tribes,  which  boast  of  their 
tens  of  thousands  of  spears,  and  have  more  than  once 
defied  the  armies  of  the  Sultan.  Some  years  since  the 
Turkish  government  sent  a  large  force  against  them,  which 
they  defeated.  The  Bedaween  are  splendid  horsemen,  and 
mustering  in  battle  array,  they  rode  down  the  Turkish 
infantry  with  a  rush  that  swept  everything  before  them. 
"Here  is  the  place,"  said  an  old  sheikh,  riding  over  the 
field  with  the  missionai'v,  and  his  eyes  flashed  as  he  said 
*'  How  we  did  give  it  to  them !  "     The  second  time  the 


92  STORIKS    OF    THE    BEDAWEEX. 

result  was  different.  But,  said  the  sheikli,  unwilling  to 
admit  that  they  could  be  defeated  in  honorable  battle, 
"  it  was  not  the  Turks  that  beat  us — it  icas  the  children  of 
the  Tnides  !  "  It  appeared  that  in  the  second  battle,  warned 
by  their  defeat,  the  Tui'ks  brought  up  a  lai'ge  force  of 
artillery,  using  the  same  weapon  with  which  Napoleon  had 
destroj'ed  the  Mamelukes  of  Egj^pt.  The  cannon  were 
drawn  on  the  ground  by  mules,  which  being  driven  in 
front,  looked  at  a  distance  like  a  procession  of  beasts  of 
burden  hauling  a  baggage  train,  until  they  parted  to  the 
right  and  left,  and  the  batteries  opened  with  shot  and 
shell.  This  seemed  to  the  Bedaween,  accustomed  to  fight 
on  horseback,  an  infernal  device.  In  the  confusion  and 
uproar,  no  wonder  that  they  imagined  that  the  balls  which 
cut  through  their  ranks  had  somehow  come  from  the 
mules,  who  seemed  suddenly  to  have  tongues  of  fire,  and 
to  hurl  destruction  out  of  their  huge  mouths.  These 
"fiery  darts"  were  "the  children  of  the  mules."  It  was 
the  first  time  that  I  knew  that  mvdes  had  children,  but  if 
they  had,  it  seemed  quite  in  character  that  such  unnatural 
progeny  shordd  appear  in  flame  and  smoke. 

These  wild  children  of  the  desert  could  hardly  be  sup- 
posed to  be  very  hopeful  subjects  of  missionai-y  labor,  nor 
could  he  report  much  success.  But  at  least  they  had 
received  him  kindly.  He  knew  all  their  tribes,  and  went 
among  them  without  fear  ;  and  though  they  were  a  race 
of  robbers,  thej^  did  him  no  wrong.  True,  he  took  good 
care  to  cany  nothing  with  him  to  tempt  theu'  cupidity. 
He  went  without  scrij)  or  purse,  and  always  rode  straight 
to  the  tent  of  the  sheikh,  and  claimed  his  hospitality,  and 
placed  himself  under  his  protection.  Nor  did  they  ever 
belie  his  confidence,  or  betray  their  guest.  On  the  con- 
trary', they  had  received  him  as  if  he  had  been  one  of  their 
own  tribe,  and  gave  him  the  best  they  had,  and  he  had 


THEIR    HOSPITALITY.  93 

lain  down  in  their  tents,  and  slept  in  safety.  They  showed 
him  hospitality  sometimes  at  great  trouble  to  themselves. 
One  night  he  came  to  a  tent,  and  was  almost  dpng  with 
hunger,  but  saw  no  sign  of  preparation  to  satisfy  his  crav- 
ing. He  did  not  then  know  the  reason,  which  was  that 
they  had  nothing  to  set  before  him.  At  last  weary  and 
faint,  he  wrapped  himself  in  his  blanket  and  lay  down, 
hoping  to  forget  the  pangs  of  himger  in  sleep.  But  pres- 
ently he  heard  whisperings,  and  women  left  the  tent,  and 
went  out  into  the  darkness.  At  last  he  dropped  asleep, 
and  when  he  awoke  it  was  broad  day.  He  then  learned 
that  the  women  had  made  a  three  hours  journey  on  foot  to 
bring  water  from  a  spring  to  cook  a  breakfast  for  him,  and 
towards  morning  a  sheep  had  been  killed,  and  now  was 
set  before  him  a  feast  which  it  had  cost  them  all  night  to 
prepare.  No  wonder  he  was  touched  by  such  kindness. 
He  said  the  Bedaween  often  paid  him  a  visit  when  they 
came  to  Nablous,  and  he  always  set  food  and  drink  before 
them,  and  thus  tried  in  some  way  to  return  the  hospitality 
shown  him  by  the  children  of  the  desert. 

These  were  pleasant  things  to  talk  about  as  we  sat  in 
the  gloaming  under  the  ancient  olive  trees.  At  length  he 
rose  to  depart.  "  By  the  way,"  said  the  dragoman,  "  would 
you  be  so  kind  as  to  stop  at  the  headquaiiers  of  the  officer 
in  command  of  the  troops,  and  ask  him  to  send  us  a  guard 
for  the  night  ?  "  "  Of  course."  But  really  it  seemed  quite 
unnecessaiy  in  a  city  so  populous,  and  apparently  so 
thoroughly  governed  :  for  Nablous  is  one  of  the  centres  of 
Tui-kish  power  in  Palestine  ;  it  has  not  only  a  governor, 
but  a  garrison  in  command  of  an  officer  of  high  rank,  who 
had  under  him,  it  was  said,  a  thousand  men.  We  saw 
their  ban-acks  as  we  rode  up  the  valley.  It  was  not  an 
unpleasant  sight  in  this  lawless  country.  I  confess  it  gave 
us  a  sense  of  security  to  feel  that  we  had  come  at  last 


94  A    KOHIJKRY    1\    THE    CAMP. 

■witliiu  the  range  of  guns.  It  seemed  as  if  such  a  military 
force  were  enough  to  hold  in  check  any  propensities  of  an 
ill-disposed  pojivilation,  if  such  there  were,  and  that  we 
needed  no  special  guard.  However,  just  for  the  dignity 
of  the  thing,  we  submitted  to  this  military  protection,  and 
l^erhaps  were  a  little  lifted  up  in  mind  when  four  soldiers 
filed  into  camp,  and  took  their  places,  one  before  each  tent. 
"What  a  sense  of  gi'eatness  it  gives  to  the  most  insignificant 
traveller  to  see  a  soldier  standing  guard  before  his  door ! 
With  such  a  protector,  I  lay  down  to  sleep,  feehng  as  did 
another  in  fancied  security,  when 

"At  midnight,  in  his  guarded  tent, 
The  Turk  was  dreaming  of  the  hour." 

Such  were  my  dreams,  when  bang !  went  a  gun,  and  there 
was  a  sound  of  feet  scurrying  to  and  fi'o.  But  even  that 
excited  no  alarm,  for  though  it  betokened  danger,  it  showed 
that  the  guardians  of  oiir  safety  were  awake  and  vigilant ; 
so  like  the  dreaming  Turk,  I  turned  and  went  to  sleep 
again.  But  as  the  dawn  of  day  crept  slowly  on,  for  it  was 
raining,  and  the  morning  was  dark  and  lowery,  the  di'ago- 
man  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  tent,  Avith  a  troubled  face, 
to  ask  "  if  we  had  been  robbed."  "  Robbed  ?  No.  Wliy 
do  you  ask  ?  "  "  Because  your  neighbors  in  the  next  tent 
have  been."  So  much  for  our  military  protectors!  The 
next  tent  was  occupied  by  Mr.  and  IMrs.  Winter,  the  Eng- 
lish gentleman  and  his  wife,  who  had  taken  extraordinary 
precautions  to  insure  the  safety  of  their  valuables,  which 
were  locked  in  a  traveUing-bag  that  was  always  kept  with 
them,  and  when  they  retii'ed  to  their  tent,  was  fastened  to 
the  tent-pole  !  But  in  the  night  some  one  had  cut  through 
the  canvas  of  the  tent,  and  creeping  softly  between  the  two 
iron  bedsteads,  whose  occupants  were  sleeping,  cut  the 
fastening  and  dragged  off  the  precious  bag,  which  was 
found  not  a  hvmdred  yards  from  the  tent,  lifled  of  its  con- 


WERE   THE    GUARDS    THE    ROBBKRS  ?  95 

tents,  including  a  sandal-wood  box,  which  contained  a 
number  of  souvenirs  picked  up  on  the  Continent,  among 
them  a  pair  of  bracelets  that  had  cost  a  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds!  Here  was  a  sensation  which  brought  us  all  to 
our  feet  and  out  of  our  tents.  Our  first  thought  was, 
Wliat  inexcusable  negligence  on  the  part  of  our  giaards ! 
until  a  little  fui^ther  reflection  led  us  to  think  that  per- 
haps the  guards  were  themselves  the  robbers  !  This  idea 
took  such  strong  hold  of  us  that  as  we  turned  to  look  at 
them,  their  blank  faces  seemed  a  silent  confession  of 
guilt,  and  we  had  them  at  once  seized  by  our  muleteers, 
and  marched  oif  to  the  office  of  the  mihtary  command- 
ant, to  receive  instant  punishment  for  their  crime.  Mr. 
Winter  and  the  dragoman  went  along  to  witness  their 
condemnation.  Whoever  has  been  in  an  Eastern  court, 
knows  that  it  is  a  place  where  justice  is  rendered,  if  ren- 
dered at  all,  "  without  mercy."  The  Colonel  was  at  his 
headquarters,  and  as  soon  as  he  heard  the  story,  ordered 
the  soldiers  into  his  presence,  and  accused  them  directly 
of  the  crime,  bvu-sting  out  upon  them  in  a  rage  and  fury 
that  were  really  appalling.  They  were  thieves,  robbers, 
wretches  of  the  blackest  dye.  "  He  knew  their  guilt  ;  they 
could  not  deceive  him."  If  they  did  not  at  once  return 
the  stolen  goods,  he  would  have  them  beaten  within  an 
inch  of  their  lives.  This  violence  of  language  was  accom- 
panied with  such  Adolence  of  manner,  that  those  who  heard 
him  almost  looked  to  see  the  wretched  creatures  thrown 
on  the  ground  and  bastinadoed  on  the  spot.  Nor  would 
bastinadoing  be  sufficient ;  he  would  "  tear  out  their  eyes 
fi'om  their  sockets,"  and  "cut  their  tongues  fi'om  their 
throats  "  !  Even  then  his  wi-ath  would  not  be  appeased  : 
he  would  have  their  wives  and  children  made  beggars,  or 
sold  as  slaves !  Those  who  listened,  thought  that  the 
majesty  of  justice  had  never  appeared  in  a  form  so  awful ; 


9()  TURKISH  JueriCK. 

that  "Turkish  justice"  at  least  was  more  than  a  name; 
that  it  was  a  fearful  reahty,  since  it  was  now  to  he  vindi- 
cated before  their  eyes  by  a  I'etribution  so  swift  and 
teiiible. 

An  hour  passed,  and  a  change  came  over  the  spirit  of 
our  dream.  Scarcely  had  Floyd  retui'ned  to  the  camp 
before  we  saw  through  the  trees  some  important  personage 
approaching,  and  soon  appeared  the  officer  in  command 
himself,  with  half  a  dozen  attendants,  and  with  our  guards, 
who  were  marched  on  the  ground  to  be  confronted  with 
their  accusers.  They  protested  their  innocence,  though 
they  contradicted  themselves  in  a  way  to  leave  little  doubt 
of  their  guilt.  The  officer  dismounted  with  a  somewhat 
haughty  air,  and  was  conducted  to  a  tent,  where,  being 
first  supplied  with  coflfee  and  cigarettes,  he  took  his  seat  of 
state,  and  summoning  his  secretary  to  take  our  "  deposi- 
tions," desired  to  make  further  injury  into  the  "  alleged  " 
robbery  suffered  by  members  of  oiir  party.  It  had  sud- 
denly dawned  upon  him  that  he  had  been  too  hasty  in 
admitting  that  we  had  been  robbed  by  his  own  men.  Was 
it  to  be  supposed  that  "  soldiers  "  would  be  thieves  ;  that 
the  guardians  of  the  law  would  be  the  breakers  of  the  law  ? 
To  confess  this  would  be  an  imputation  on  their  miHtaiy 
honor,  which  he  coiild  not  admit  without  the  strongest 
proof.  How  did  we  know  that  our  own  muleteers  were 
not  the  thieves  ?  He  seemed  now  fully  convinced  that  our 
EngUsh  friends  had  been  robbed  by  the  retainers  of  our 
own  party,  if  indeed  they  had  been  robbed  at  all,  for  the  more 
he  thought  about  it,  the  more  it  seemed  to  his  judicial 
mind  as  if  the  whole  story  were,  to  use  a  slang  phrase,  "  a 
put  up  job."  This  was  made  probable  to  him  by  the  large 
amount  of  the  loss.  "  How  much  did  you  say,"  he  asked 
of  IVli-.  Winter,  "  you  had  lost  ?  "  "A  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds."     "  That  is  a  great  deal,"  he  answered,  "  as  much 


A    MISERABLE   DAY.  97 

as  a  merchant  would  carry  who  was  travelling  with  goods 
to  sell.  A  hundred  and  fifty  pounds !  "  he  repeated, 
adding  mth  a  sneer,  "  Why  do  you  not  make  it  a  thou- 
sand?" evidently  thinking  one  story  as  probable  as  the 
other.  So  sa>dng,  he  mounted  his  horse,  followed  by  his 
secretary  and  other  attendants,  and  rode  away. 

We  were  now  placed  in  an  awkward  position.  Not 
only  had  members  of  our  party  been  robbed,  bnt  they  were 
under  suspicion  of  being  privy  to  a  pretended  crime  of 
which  they  had  accused  others,  to  extort  money  from  the 
Tui'kish  government. 

To  add  to  the  cheerfulness  of  the  situation,  it  had  been 
raining  all  night,  and  promised  to  rain  aU  day.  We  could 
not  put  a  foot  out  of  the  tents  without  stepping  in  mud. 
Indeed  the  rain  invaded  our  tents,  and  we  were  almost 
afloat.  We  wrapped  ourselves  in  waterproofs,  and  put 
rubbers  on  our  feet,  and  thus  muffled  up,  gathered  under 
the  ohve  trees  where  but  a  few  hours  ago  we  had  sat  in 
the  twilight,  and  talked  of  the  hospitality  and  other  virtues 
of  the  descendants  of  Ishmael.  It  was  a  dismal  company. 
The  dragoman  looked  at  me,  and  I  looked  at  my  fellow- 
travellers,  and  they  looked  at  the  horses,  whose  manes  and 
tails  were  limp  and  dripping,  and  the  horses  looked  at 
the  mules  ;  and  aU,  man  and  beast,  seemed  bound  together 
in  one  companionshij^  of  misery.  We  were  disgusted,  not 
only  at  the  robbery,  but  at  our  impotence  to  punish  it.  I 
will  not  say  that  we  "  cursed  our  fate,"  for  that  would  have 
been  wicked ;  but  I  am  afi'aid  some  of  my  countiymen, 
who  are  not  very  choice  in  theii*  language,  would  have 
described  the  exhibition  of  that  morning  as  a  specimen  of 
"pirre  cussedness."  If  we  could  have  followed  our  im- 
pulse, I  believe  we  should  at  that  moment  have  stinick  our 
tents,  and  mounted  our  horses,  and  turned  our  backs  on 
Nablous,  prefeiTing  to  face  the  storm  rather  than  to  be 


98  BEARDIXG   THE    LTOX    TX    HIS    DEN. 

thus  enraged  and  defied.     But  even  if  we  did  not  care  for 
the  fury  of  the  elements,  we  were  reluctant  to  execute  a 
manoeuvre  which  would  look  like  a  retreat  in  face  of  the 
enemy.     So  we  detennined  heroically  to  stay  and  see  it  out. 
After  another  hour  of  reflection,  we  plucked  up  cour- 
age and  resolved  to  make  one  more  attempt.     This  time 
we  woidd  beard  the  lion  in  his  den — we  would  go  to  the 
Governor  himself.     And  that  we  might  impress  him  with 
a  sense  of  our  importance,  we  would  go  in  a  body.     So 
gathering  up  our  garments,  as  if  we  would  shake  off  the 
dust,   or  rather  the   mud,   from    our  feet,  we    marched 
through  the  streets  to  the  Serai,  the  official  residence,  and 
demanded  an  audience.    We  were  admitted  into  the  court, 
and  shown  up  a  stone  staircase  into  an  ante-room  (which 
had  a  look  of  extreme  dilapidation)  to  wait  the  pleasure  of 
his  highness.     Impatient  as  we  were,  it  was   reviving  to 
have  the  attendant  who  went  to  seek  his  master  return 
after  a  few  minutes'  absence,  and  inform  us  that  he  was 
asleep,  and  could  not  be  disturbed,  but  that  he  would 
awake  some  time  in  the  forenoon,  and  after  his  breakfa.^t, 
would  perhaps  see  us,  unless  he  had  more  important  mat- 
ters or  personages  to   claim   his   attention !      Again  we 
looked  in  each  other's  faces,  and  behold,  they  were  very 
blank.     If  there  be  any  thing  in  the  world  that  will  take 
one's  sense  of  dignity,  or  of  his  own  consequence,  out  of 
him,  it  is  to  be  dancing  attendance  in  the  ante-room  of  an 
Eastern  official,  with  whom  time  is  of  no  consequence.     It 
was  rather  tedious.     If  we  had  had  any  "  news  "  to  feed 
upon,  even  the   smallest  bit   of  gossip   to   nibble   at,  it 
would  have  stayed  our  utter  vacuity  of  mind.     But  no,  we 
had  nothing  to  talk  about  or  think  about  except  our  OAvn 
wretched  selves,  and  we  were  in  that  disgusted  state  in 
which  a  man  holds  himself  in  contempt,  thinking  "You 
are  a  pretty  fool  to  get  into  such  a  scrape."    To  reUeve  the 


THE    TURKISH    GOVERNOR.  99 

monotony  we  would  now  and  then  walk  to  the  window  and 
look  out,  but  could  see  nothing  but  rain,  rain,  rain.  This 
might  not  have  been  quite  so  tiresome  if  we  could  have 
seen  any  hving  thing.  "Washington  Irving  has  written  a 
very  pleasant  sketch  of  "  a  rainy  day  "  which  he  passed  in 
a  country  inn.  But  he  could  look  into  a  barnyard,  with 
its  busy,  bustling  brood.  If  we  could  have  seen  a  rooster, 
and  heard  him  crow,  or  a  hen  and  chickens,  that  woiild 
have  been  quite  sufficient  to  set  us  off  into  a  talk  about 
domestic  fowls.  But  there  was  no  sign  of  bird  or  beast : 
the  rain  fell  into  a  stone-paved  court,  hard  and  ciniel  as  our 
fate.  So  after  staring  at  the  stones,  we  came  back  from 
the  window  and  sat  down  again,  all  in  a  row,  like  convicts 
in  the  box,  waiting  for  sentence.  In  this  interesting  occu- 
pation we  passed  two  mortal  hours,  when  there  was  a  stir 
without,  and  the  Governor  in  a  fez  cap  mounted  the  stairs 
and  entered  the  room,  and  making  us  a  gi'acious  salaam, 
took  his  seat  on  the  divan.  He  was  not  quite  the  ideal  of 
a  Turkish  pacha,  who  ought  always  to  be  fat  :  for  he  was 
a  little  man,  with  hardly  flesh  enough  on  his  bones  to 
support  so  much  dignity.  The  only  touch  of  Oriental 
magnificence  about  him  was  the  heavy  rings  worn  on  his 
dainty  fingers.  As  he  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  divan,  his 
feet  dangled  to  the  floor,  which  they  hardly  touched,  and 
he  appeared  to  be  sitting  uncomfortabty,  until  suddenly 
he  drew  up  his  legs,  which,  when  coiled  under  him  like  a 
cushion,  furnished  a  sufficient  base  for  the  slender  super- 
structiu'e.  Thus  supported,  his  vertebral  column  stood  up 
more  erect,  and  swayed  hither  and  thither  hke  a  sei'pent, 
as  he  bowed  to  o\ix  petition  and  complaint.  I  have  no 
doubt  he  wished  us  all  in  Jericho.  However,  he  was  civil, 
and  asked  many  questions,  and  made  us  soft  speeches,  the 
full  value  of  which  we  soon  understood.  After  a  some- 
what long  interview,  in  which  he  professed  great  sympathy 


100  UNDER   A   missionary's   ROOF. 

for  our  loss,  and  made  many  promises,  he  bowed  us  out 
just  as  wise  as  we  were  before,  and  fully  convinced  that 
our  plain,  straightforward  ways,  unless  backed  by  force, 
were  no  match  for  Oriental  cunning  and  duplicity. 

"VMien  we  came  out  into  the  street,  it  was  still  pouring, 
and  as  it  was  dismal  to  go  back  to  our  tents  to  pass  the 
rest  of  the  day,  and  another  night,  perhaps  to  be  robbed 
again,  we  accepted  the  invitation  of  the  missionary  to 
transfer  our  quarters  to  his  house,  where,  though  we  were 
j^acked  pretty  closely,  and  though,  when  night  came,  some 
of  us  had  to  sleep  on  the  floor,  we  had  at  least  a  roof  over 
om-  heads,  and  a  barred  door  between  us  and  any  robbers 
who  might  be  prowling  about.  We  were  wet  and  shiver- 
ing, but  we  sat  round  the  charcoal-burner  till  we  got 
thoroughly  warmed — a  sensation  which  restored  a  little 
the  equanimity  of  otu*  minds. 

We  did  not  go  out  again  that  day.  We  had  had 
enough  of  Nablous,  and  were  in  no  mood  to  make  any 
further  explorations  of  this  sacred  city.  Though  we  had 
camjoed  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Gerizim,  we  did  not  climb  to 
the  top  where  sacrifices  had  been  offered  for  more  than 
two  thousand  years.  Indeed  of  the  two  I  think  we  should 
have  felt  more  inclined  to  go  up  on  Mount  Ebal,  and  read 
aU  the  curses  of  the  law  over  a  place  which  had  proved  to 
us — not  a  holy  mount,  but  a  den  of  thieves. 

But  we  would  not  pronounce  a  malediction  on  a  place 
where  we  had  found  at  last  a  shelter.  Here  we  were 
warmed  and  fed,  and  in  the  retui'ning  sense  of  comfort,  we 
could  listen  with  complacence  to  the  rain  which  still 
poured  heavily  in  the  streets.  There  is  a  sweet  sense  of 
seciuity  in  the  sound  of  patteiing  rain,  not  when  it  faUs  on 
soaking  tents,  but  on  a  firm  and  tight  roof.  Thus  we 
passed  the  rest  of  the  day  in  the  quiet  and  comfort  of  the 
missionary's  home. 


LYING   TURKISH   PROMISES.  101 

To  make  an  end  of  this  story  of  robbery,  I  will  antici- 
pate a  little.  The  next  morning,  before  leaving  Nablous, 
Ml-.  Winter,  with  the  di'agoman,  paid  a  second  visit  to  the 
Governor,  and  found  him  in  a  gracious  mood.  He  did 
not,  like  the  Colonel,  question  the  truth  of  their  tale,  but 
promised  the  fullest  reparation.  The  stolen  property 
should  be  restored  to  the  very  last  mite.  Not  only  the 
costly  jewelry,  but  every  tiifle  to  the  last  brass  pin.  It 
might  take  several  days,  but  when  we  reached  Nazareth, 
or  at  farthest  Damascus  or  Beirut,  the  whole  missing 
property  should  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  owner, 
untouched.  These  assurances  were  given,  if  not  with  the 
formality  of  an  oath,  yet  with  all  the  sacred  sanction  of 
honor  and  truth.  He  followed  our  fi'iends  to  the  door, 
repeating  these  assurances,  so  that  the  very  last  words 
they  heard  were  what  so  many  other  travellers  in  the  East 
have  to  hear — l^dng  Tm-kish  promises !  But  these  false 
words  accomphshed  their  piu-pose,  of  raising  a  flutter  of 
hope  in  the  breasts  of  our  robbed  companions.  For  a 
time  they  felt  even  a  little  return  of  confidence,  and  were 
buoyed  up  as  we  resumed  our  march  by  seeing  their 
treasures  in  the  distance,  which  they  continued  to  see  very 
much  in  the  distance  all  the  way  through  Palestine.  At 
each  stage  of  our  journey  the  jDledge  was  freshly  recalled 
to  be  freshly  disappointed.  At  last,  when  we  sailed  fi-om 
Beirut  for  Constantinople,  we  left  our  English  fi-iends  at 
the  hotel  still  waiting  for  Turkish  justice !  If  they  were 
determined  not  to  dejiart  till  they  had  recovered  what 
they  had  lost,  I  fear  they  are  waiting  there  still.  Such 
was  our  day  in  Nablous — a  day  that  was  certainly  not  all 
sunshine.     May  we  never  see  its  like  again  ! 


CHAPTER  IX. 

TO    SAMARIA    AND    JENIISr FALLING    AGAIX    AMONG 

THIEVES. 

Half  the  pleasui'e  of  life  is  in  contrast,  in  change  from 
one  scene  to  another.  "  The  clear  shining  after  rain "  is 
beautiful  because  of  the  rain,  which  has  cleansed  and  puri- 
fied the  atmosphere,  and  made  the  air  so  sweet  and  the 
sky  so  blue.  But  for  "  the  rain  "  which  has  gone  before, 
we  might  not  appreciate  "the  clear  shining  "  which  follows 
after.  So  in  our  human  experience  there  is  a  pecuhar  zest 
given  to  that  which  is  pleasant,  by  the  fact  that  it  comes 
after  that  which  is  dismal  and  forlorn.  Such  a  change  we 
experienced  the  next  morning.  When  the  day  broke,  "the 
rain  was  over  and  gone,"  and  the  sun  rose  without  a  cloud. 
A  little  after  seven  we  mounted  oiu'  horses  before  the 
missionary's  door,  and  began  to  file  through  the  streets  of 
Nablous,  followed  by  the  train  of  mules  caiTying  our  tents. 
Everything  wore  a  new  aspect.  The  city  had  been  washed 
clean  by  the  rains  of  the  preceding  day,  and  the  olive 
orchards  on  the  hillsides  were  fresh  and  gi-een.  As  the 
sun  touched  the  tops  of  the  twin  mountains  between  which 
the  valley  lies?  we  could  oipt  find,  it  in  our  heai'ts  to  pro- 
nounce a  malediction  even  upon  Ebal,  when  it  answered 


A   DELIGHTFUL   CONTRAST.  103 

so  beamingly  to  the  first  flush  of  day.  As  we  rode  down 
the  valley,  the  streams  by  the  roadside,  swollen  by  the 
rains,  seemed  to  be  running  a  race,  bubbling  and  boiling 
over  in  their  fulness  of  joy.  These  streams  unite  below 
the  town,  and  flow  through  the  Plain  of  Sharon  to  the 
Mediterranean.  We  knew  that  the  sea  was  not  many 
miles  away,  for  a  deHcious  sea-breeze  came  up  fi'om  the 
west,  and  blew  in  our  faces,  filling  our  lungs  with  such 
bracing  air  that  we  felt  a  constant  impulse  to  shout  and 
sing.  Every  living  thing  seemed  to  have  caught  the 
inspiration :  the  time  of  the  singing  of  birds  had  come, 
and  the  flowers  appeared  on  the  earth.  The  innumerable 
multitudes  of  wild  flowers  is  one  of  the  beauties  of  Pal- 
estine, and  never  were  they  more  abundant  or  of  more 
exquisite  variety,  than  that  morning  as  we  rode  through 
the  hills  and  valleys  of  ancient  Samaria.  This  is  the  heart 
of  Palestine,  its  central  region,  and  is  at  once  the  most 
beautiful  in  natviral  scenery,  and  the  most  richly  culti- 
vated. It  is  indeed  a  land  of  corn  and  wdne,  of  vineyards 
and  oliveyards,  of  the  fig-tree  and  the  pomegranate,  and  of 
brooks  that  run  among  the  hills.  Through  landscapes  so 
rich  and  varied  we  rode  for  a  couple  of  houi-s,  when  we 
saw  in  the  distance  a  hill  standing  alone — an  island  in  a 
sea  of  verdure — its  sides  ten-aced  and  blooming  with  the 
olive  and  the  vine,  like  those  sunny  slopes  along  the 
Corniche  road,  in  France  and  Italy,  which  open  their 
breasts  to  be  warmed  by  the  Southern  sun.  Below  it  and 
ai'ound  it  stretched  a  wide  plain,  beyond  which  rose  the 
encircling  hills  ;  so  that  the  central  height,  standing  soli- 
tary, was  like  a  throne  set  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  amphi- 
theatre. 

On  this  noble  eminence  stood  the  ancient  city  of 
Samaria — a  city  whose  origin  dates  from  nine  hundi-ed 
years  before  Christ,  when  Omri,  King  of  Israel,  bought  the 


104  THE    CITY    OF   SAMARIA. 

hill  for  two  talents  of  silver,  and  built  a  city  upon  it,  which 
he  called  after  the  name  of  Shemer,  the  owner  of  the  hill, 
Samaria.  Here  a  hundred  yeai's  later  we  find  a  splendid 
capital,  in  which  Ahab,  ruled  by  a  pagan  wife,  built  the 
temple  of  Baal  and  his  palace  of  ivoi-y,  and  where  Jezebel 
(the  Lady  Macbeth  of  a  king  perhaps  more  weak  than 
wicked)  led  him  to  play  the  tyrant  over  his  unhappy  peo- 
ple. That  the  city  must  have  had  great  resources,  appears 
fi'om  the  fact  that  it  withstood  a  three  years'  siege  fi'om 
the  army  of  the  Syrians,  which  came  down  from  the  north, 
and  beleaguered  the  j^lace  till  the  inhabitants  were  ready 
to  die  with  famine,  and  even  began  to  devour  each  other, 
when  it  was  dehvered  by  a  Divine  intei'position,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  prediction  of  Elisha.  "We  are  now  in  the 
country  of  Elijah  and  Elisha,  whose  prophet  forms  are  con- 
tinually appearing  and  disappearing  and  reappearing  in 
the  histoi-y  of  the  Kings  of  Israel. 

The  beauty  of  the  position  of  Samaria  attracted  the 
eyes  of  the  Roman  conquerors,  who  made  it  the  capi- 
tal of  Central  Palestine.  Here  Herod  the  Grtat,  who 
had  a  passion  for  splendid  architecture,  and  was  always 
building  palaces,  erected  that  long  colonnade  the  remains 
of  which  still  attest  its  ancient  magnificence.  We  rode  up 
the  hill,  and  leaving  our  horses  in  charge  of  the  mule- 
teers, set  out  on  a  walk  around  the  brow  of  the  plateau, 
tracing  this  colonnade.  It  is  over  half  a  mile  long,  and 
must  have  numbered  hundreds  of  columns.  Sixty  are  still 
standing,  after  nineteen  centuries.  AAHien  first  erected, 
this  long  Hne  of  marble  columns,  standing  on  the  crest  of  a 
hUl,  from  which  it  could  be  seen  to  a  great  distance  over 
the  countiy,  must  have  seemed  like  a  royal  crown  for  the 
monarch's  brow.  It  was  standing  in  the  time  of  Clmst, 
and  as  He  often  passed  through  Samai'ia  on  his  way  from 
Nazareth  to  Jerusalem,  he   must  have   seen  it  in  all  its 


BEAUTY    OF   THE    COUNTRY.  105 

splendor.  But  not  once  does  he  make  allusion  to  it ;  so 
much  less  in  his  eye  were  jirinces  and  palaces  than  humbler 
beings  in  their  obscure  abodes ;  so  much  less  was  the 
whiteness  of  marble  columns  than  the  purity  of  a  hmnan 
soul. 

Of  course  Samaria,  like  other  towns  in  Palestine,  is  but 
the  shadow  of  its  former  self — a  wretched  village  taking 
the  place  of  the  fonner  capital.  The  city  is  gone,  but  the 
beauty  of  the  country  remains.  It  came  upon  us  anew  as 
we  passed  round  the  hill,  and  came  out  on  the  northern 
sloj)e,  and  looked  down  on  the  terraced  hillsides,  and  the 
wide  expanse  below,  over  which  the  hght  and  shadow 
were  playing.  Descending  into  the  plain,  we  rode  through 
its  rich  fields,  and  then  over  the  hills  and  through  the 
fertile  vales.  A  little  to  one  side  was  Dothan,  where 
Joseph's  brethren  cast  him  into  a  pit,  and  afterwards  drew 
him  out  to  sell  him  to  the  Midianites,  who  carried  him 
down  to  Egypt,  and  where  Elisha  saw  the  moTintains 
round  about  filled  with  horses  and  chariots  of  fire !  These 
were  great  memories,  which  might  well  ari'est  the  travel- 
ler ;  but  we  could  not  turn  aside  even  for  these,  for  it  had 
again  set  in  to  rain.  This  matter  of  rain  is  an  element 
that  must  never  be  left  out  of  calculation.  The  month  of 
April  is  considered  the  best  for  Palestine,  because  it  is  free 
from  rain  ;  at  least  it  is  supj)Osed  to  be.  The  early  rains 
come,  not  in  the  Spring,  but  in  the  Autumn,  when  the 
husbandmen  plow  and  sow.  The  latter  rains  come  in 
the  Spring,  and  ripen  the  harvest.  These  are  supposed 
to  end  in  March,  so  that  properly  there  ought  not  to  be 
any  rain  in  April.  But  this  yeai-  the  seasons  are  out  of 
joint.  Thus  far  our  two  drawbacks  to  the  pleasui'e  of 
travel  in  Palestine  have  been  rains  and  thieves.  There 
has  been  a  flood  of  rains  and  an  epidemic  of  thieves. 
To-day  the  rain  began  soon  after  noon,  and  kept  on  pour- 


106  CAMP    AT   JEXIX. 

iiig  haxder  and  harder.  As  we  climbed  over  the  hills,  with 
the  wind  di-i^ing  in  oui*  faces,  we  found  it  difficult  to  make 
head  against  the  combined  wind  and  rain.  The  bravery  of 
my  military  carriage  disappeared.  With  all  my  desire  to 
keep  a  heroic  attitude,  I  had  to  confess  that  a  traveller, 
with  gannents  bedraggled  and  bespattered,  trj-ing  (with 
poor  success)  to  keep  an  umbrella  over  his  head,  is  not 
quite  Hke  a  mailed  and  helmeted  Crusader.  Of  course  our 
fii'st  impulse  would  have  been  to  stop  and  go  into  camjD  ; 
but  the  baggage  mules  had  gone  forward  with  the  tents, 
and  we  must  keep  on,  for  we  had  no  shelter.  So  we  made 
the  best  of  it,  and  struggled  on  through  the  storm,  thank- 
fid  at  last,  though  drenched  and  weary,  to  reach  a  place  of 
rest.     We  had  been  in  the  saddle  ten  hoiu's. 

We  foiind  our  tents  pitched  at  Jenin,  on  the  edge  of  the 
gi'eat  Plain  of  Esdraelon.  It  is  a  iovm  of  several  thousand 
inhabitants,  with  a  mosque,  and  has  rather  a  jirettj  look, 
embowered  in  trees,  in  which,  among  the  olive  orchards, 
rise  a  few  stately  palms  that  speak  of  a  sunnier  cHme.  We 
cami:)ed  outside  of  the  town,  but  near  enough  to  hear  the 
muezzin,  as  from  the  top  of  the  minaret  he  called  the  faith- 
ful to  prayer.  This  call  to  prayer  is  always  pleasant  to  hear 
at  the  close  of  day,  as  it  seems  to  say  that  we  have  reached  a 
place  sacred  to  devotion,  and  therefore  the  abode  of  quiet- 
ness and  peace.  Oiu-  di-agoman,  no  doubt,  was  sensible  to 
aU  these  soothing  associations  ;  but  warned  by  our  experi- 
ence at  Nablous,  and  not  placing  unbounded  confidence  in 
Moslem  prayers  or  Moslem  guards,  he  determined  not  to 
trust  to  any  outside  defenders,  but  to  keep  watch  himself. 
The  task  was  made  more  difficult  by  the  dark  nights.  Oui* 
moonlight  nights  had  left  us  in  Jenisalem,  so  that  now  we 
had  only  starlight,  and  in  these  frequent  rains  not  even 
that ;  so  that  the  nights  were  "  pitch  dark,"  and  dark 
nights  seem  made  for  dark  deeds.     However,  the  drago- 


A   MIDNIGHT    ALARM.  107 

man  did  the  best  he  coiild.  He  had  Chinese  lanterns  hung 
in  front  and  rear  of  every  tent,  and  two  fires  bviming  on 
the  opposite  sides  of  the  camp,  with  a  man  at  each  fire, 
and  another  all  the  time  moving  about.  He  himself  was 
to  snatch  a  little  sleep  in  the  early  watches,  but  to  be  called 
at  midnight. 

With  such  protection  we  "  turned  in  "  for  the  night, 
and  fell  asleep.  It  was  a  little  past  midnight  when  sud- 
denly my  tent  door  opened,  and  a  tall  form  appeared.  I 
awoke  and  sat  up,  and  supposing  it  to  be  the  dragoman, 
who  was  to  go  on  watch  at  midnight,  I  called  him  by 
name,  but  received  no  answer.  Then  it  flashed  upon  me 
that  I  was  honored  with  the  visit  of  a  "stranger,"  and 
springing  from  the  bed  I  seized  Weeden  and  shook  him  to 
awaken  him.  In  a  moment  Floyd  came  rushing  to  the 
tent.  "  Strike  a  light !  "  was  his  first  word.  In  an 
instant  we  had  a  candle  and  made  a  search,  but  found 
nothing,  and  I  began  to  think  it  was  a  false  alarm,  a 
dream,  or  some  wild  fancy  of  the  night.  But  there  was 
the  tent  door  open,  which  Floyd  had  fastened  securely 
two  or  three  hours  before.  It  was  all  a  mystery,  but  I 
might  still  have  thought  it  an  illusion  but  for  what  fol- 
lowed. We  had  shut  the  door  again  and  put  out  the  light, 
and  were  resting  quietly,  though  but  half  asleep,  when  a 
little  after  two  we  heard  a  pistol  shot,  followed  by  a  rush, 
and  then  crack,  crack,  crack,  half  a  dozen  shots  in  succes- 
sion, as  fast  as  one  could  pull  a  trigger.  Presently  the 
dragoman  appeared,  and  the  story  was  soon  told.  The 
Chinese  lanterns  had  been  blown  out  by  the  wind,  and  the 
rain  had  extinguished  the  fires,  so  that  the  camp  was  left 
in  dai-kness.  Floyd  was  groping  about  when  he  saw  very 
faintly  the  figure  of  a  man  near  the  tent  of  the  Winters. 
Thinking  it  was  one  of  the  muleteers  who  were  at  that 
bom-  on  watch,  he  called  "Joseph,"   and   "Moses,"  but 


108  THIEVES    AROUND    OUR    TENTS. 

receiving  no  reply,  he  called  to  the  shadow  "  "Who  are 
you  ? "  when  the  figure  dropped  instantly  in  the  grass. 
Then  he  cried  to  the  men,  "  Here's  a  thief,  come  and  catch 
him,"  at  which  the  man  sprang  up  and  ran,  with  a  bullet 
after  him  to  quicken  his  steps,  and  the  same  moment  two 
others  sprang  up  and  joined  in  his  flight.  Floyd  snapped 
his  pistol  again,  but  it  would  not  go  off.  It  took  him  a 
moment  to  fumble  in  his  pocket  for  another  and  larger 
revolver,  which  did  not  miss  fire.  His  blood  was  up,  and 
he  let  fly  shot  after  shot.  However,  the  thieves  made  good 
time,  and  were  soon  lost  in  the  darkness.  The  whole  affair 
occupied  but  a  few  moments,  but  it  left  us  in  a  state  of 
gi'eat  excitement.  All  the  men  were  up,  and  for  them 
there  was  no  more  sleep  till  morning.  Chinese  lanterns 
were  lighted  again  at  every  tent,  both  in  front  and  reai\ 
As  the  whole  camp  was  now  on  guard,  we,  who  were 
"  only  passengers,"  felt  that  we  were  safer  than  ever 
before,  and  lying  down  for  the  third  time,  slept  as  we 
could  till  morning. 

I  am  sorr)'  to  have  so  much  to  say  about  thieves,  but 
the  fault  is  not  in  me,  but  in  the  thieves.  If  they  had  not 
been  there,  I  should  not  have  had  to  speak  about  them. 
They  have  taken  me  a  little  off  my  guard.  I  thought  when 
we  left  the  desert,  that  we  had  entered  the  bounds  of 
civilization.  After  our  experience  with  the  Bedaween,  I 
hoped  we  were  done  with  perils  of  robbers.  But  the 
worst  was  to  come  after  we  left  Jerusalem.  I  do  not  wish 
to  make  too  much  of  these  incidents,  nor  to  exaggerate 
them  into  real  "perils."  There  has  been  no  tragedy. 
Only  I  have  had  a  Httle  taste  of  what  other  travellers  have 
had  in  fuller  measvu'e.  It  is  the  usage  of  the  country,  to 
which  we  must  aU  submit.  "A  certain  man  went  down  to 
Jericho,  and  fell  among  thieves."  He  has  had  many  suc- 
cessors, and  they  do  not  all  find  a  good  Samaiitan.     For 


A    COM. M OX    EXPERIENCE.  109 

this  travellers  should  be  prepared.  So  much  is  it  a  matter 
of  course,  that  a  tour  in  the  Holy  Land  is  hardly  com- 
plete without  a  robbery. 

Comparing  our  experience  with  others,  we  do  not  find 
that  we  have  fared  worse  than  they.  This  year  has  been  a 
harvest  time  for  thieves,  and  few  have  escaped.  An  Amer- 
ican gentleman  whom  we  met  in  Jerusalem — "Mx.  Chapin 
of  Providence — left  the  day  before  us.  We  met  him  again 
in  Nazareth,  when  he  told  us  his  experience.  On  the 
second  night  he  camped  at  Howara,  an  hour  and  a  half 
before  reaching  Nablous,  and  applied  to  the  sheikh  of  the 
village  for  a  guard,  who  sent  three  men.  In  the  night 
a  man  entered  his  tent,  and  carried  off  his  wife's  car- 
pet-bag ;  but  finding  little  in  it,  came  again,  and  carried 
off  his  jDortmanteau.  By  this  time  his  suspicions  were 
excited,  and  he  gave  the  alann,  which  brought  the  drago- 
man to  his  tent,  who,  understanding  the  ways  of  the 
country,  put  his  pistol  to  the  head  of  the  chief  man  of  the 
guard,  and  told  him  to  bring  back  the  portmanteau.  In  a 
few  minutes  he  brought  it.  It  was  found  outside  the  tent, 
where  it  had  been  opened.  The  guards  of  coui'se  pro- 
tested their  innocence,  but  the  di-agoman  was  not  deceived 
by  them ;  but  sure  that  they  were  the  thieves,  called  his 
muleteers,  and  ordered  them  to  seize  the  sheikh  and  bind 
him.  No  quicker  said  than  done.  Instantly  they  threw 
him  on  the  ground,  and  lashed  his  hands  behind  his  back. 
In  this  condition  the  dragoman  tied  him  with  a  strong 
rope  to  his  horse's  head,  and  Hterally  drove  him  before 
him.  The  others  were  taken  in  hand  by  the  muleteers, 
and  thus  all  were  marched  to  Nablous,  where  they  were 
recognized  as  old  offenders,  and  lodged  in  prison. 

This  constant  exposure  to  the  danger  of  being  robbed, 
is  the  great  drawback  to  the  pleasure  of  travel  in  Palestine. 
Robbery  is  the  ctu'se  of  the  country-,  as  brigandage  has 


♦ 

110  NEED    OF    A    STROXG    COVERNMENT. 

been  for  generations  the  cnrse  of  Sicily.  How  it  is  to  be 
extii-jiated  is  a  difficult  problem.  The  faidt  is  not  merely 
in  the  j)eople  ;  it  is  in  this  wretched  Tiu'ldsh  government, 
which  is  as  weak  as  it  is  coi-rupt,  and  which,  by  its  total 
failure  to  encourage  honest  industry,  almost  compels  the 
miserable  people  to  steal  in  order  to  live.  It  discourages 
honesty,  and  offers  a  premium  to  crime.  Such  a  deep- 
seated  disease  can  only  be  cured  by  heroic  surgery.  I 
hear  a  great  deal  said  about  this  countr^^'s  being  "  evan- 
gelized "  ;  but  it  needs  first  to  be  governed — to  be  ruled 
justly  and  firmly.  Moral  influences,  when  they  can  have  a 
chance  to  operate,  will  bring  other  blessings  in  their  train. 
But  for  the  joresent  we  must  rely  upon  the  strong  arm. 
The  country  must  be  governed  with  an  iron  hand. 


CHAPTEK  X. 

A    RTDE    OYER    THE    PLAIN    OF    ESDRAELON. 

Promptly  at  the  hour  of  sunrise  the  muezzin  climbed 
the  minaret  of  the  mosque  of  Jenin,  and  called  the  faithful 
to  prayer  ;  but  his  waihng,  melancholy  cry  did  not  awaken 
the  same  pensive  musing  as  when  we  heard  it  at  the  hour 
of  sunset.  After  a  night  of  alarms,  of  men  running  and 
shots  firing,  with  a  robber  at  the  door  of  my  tent,  I  was 
not  in  a  mood  to  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  sentimental 
devotion.  We  felt  no  desLre  to  "  dwell  in  the  tents  "  of 
Jenin  any  longer,  but  were  quite  ready  to  depart. 

The  morning,  however,  was  not  one  for  rapid  move- 
ment. The  dark  and  dismal  night  still  lowered  over  the 
opening  day.  The  clouds  hung  low  upon  the  hills,  and 
fast  fell  the  drops  which  the  wind  blew  angrily  in  our 
faces.  Prudent  travellers  would  jierhaps  have  lingered 
awhile  before  leaving  camp.  But  it  was  the  last  day  of  the 
week,  and  we  were  bent  on  spending  Sunday  in  Nazareth  ; 
and  after  our  experience  of  the  night,  if  it  had  "  rained 
pitch-forks  "  we  should  have  wished  to  move  on.  So  gird- 
ing up  our  loins,  and  muffling  up  our  breasts,  we  mounted 
our  horses,  and  set  ovu'  faces  to  the  storm. 

The  result  proved  the  wisdom  of  our  course.     When  a 


112  THE    PLAIX    OF    ESDRAELON. 

man  or  a  party  is  "  in  the  dumps,"  a  solemn,  silent  mood 
that  may  sour  into  sullenness,  there  is  nothing  like  the 
"movement  cure."  In  travelling,  as  in  other  things  that 
demand  instant  action,  the  American  rule  is  a  good  one 
that  "  the  only  way  to  do  a  thing  is  to  do  it,"  and  not 
stand  thinking  about  it  till  the  time  for  action  is  past. 
However  formidable  the  attempt  may  appear,  it  is  prob- 
able that  the  reality  will  not  prove  so  serious  as  the 
anticipation.  Once  in  the  saddle,  the  exercise  gave  us  a 
sensation  of  life  ;  the  blood  began  to  tingle  in  our  veins, 
and  to  set  oiu'  dull  thoughts  in  motion.  Instead  of  draw- 
ing thick  wi'aps  over  our  stooping  shoulders,  we  straight- 
ened up  and  began  to  look  about  and  to  study  the 
geography  of  the  country.  We  found  that  we  had  come 
into  a  new  part  of  Palestine  ;  that  we  had  left  the  hills 
and  come  down  into  the  plains,  a  change  which  was 
grateful  to  the  eye,  as  we  had  been  riding  for  days  over 
a  very  rugged  country.  We  were  now  in  the  great  Plain 
of  Esdraelon,  so  famous  in  Jewish  hii'tory — a  plain  which 
is  not  monotonous  like  our  Western  prairies,  because  it  is 
set  in  an  amphitheatre  of  hills.  Central  in  position,  it 
makes  a  break  between  the  HiU  Country  of  the  South  and 
the  Mountain  Coiintry  of  the  North,  and  thus  at  once 
separates  and  unites  the  two  great  divisions  of  Palestine. 
The  beaut}^  of  this  Plain  is  not  onh'  in  its  fertility,  which 
in  this  month  of  April  makes  it  one  broad  expanse  of  green, 
but  in  its  bordering  of  hills — a  feature  which  reminded  me 
of  the  Parks  of  Colorado,  although  the  resemblance  extends 
only  to  this,  that  in  each  case  there  is  a  broad  plain  lying 
in  the  lap  of  hills  which  enfold  it,  and  seem  to  stand  guard 
around  it.  As  to  magnitude,  there  is  no  comparison  :  for 
the  whole  of  Palestine  is  but  a  representation  in  miniatui-e 
of  the  central  State  of  our  continent,  traversed  by  the  great 
chain  of  the  Kocky  Mountains.     Here  both  mountain  and 


FROM    SAMARIA   TO    GALILEE.  113 

plain  are  on  a  very  reduced  scale.  Compared  with  the 
IVliddle  Pai'k  or  the  South  Park  of  Colorado,  the  Plain  of 
Esdi'aelon  is  of  very  moderate  dimensions,  while  the  moun- 
tains ai'ound  it  ai'e  but  foot-hills  beside  the  American  Alps. 

But  whatever  this  Plain  may  want  in  natural  gi-audevu', 
it  more  than  makes  up  by  historical  associations.  Its 
horizon  is  like  that  of  the  Roman  Campagna,  where 
every  summit  of  the  Sabine  and  the  iUban  HiUs  has 
its  legend  and  storv^  Those  hills  on  the  South,  which 
we  are  leaving  behind,  were  once  held  by  the  powerful 
tribe  of  Manasseh,  which  played  such  a  heroic  part  in 
the  Jewish  wars  ;  that  long  ridge  on  the  West,  stretch- 
ing to  the  MediteiTanean  Sea,  is  Mount  Carmel,  the 
retreat  of  the  Prophets  EUjah  and  Elisha  ;  on  the  East, 
standing  apart,  are  the  heights  of  Mount  Gilboa  and 
Mount  Tabor ;  while  in  front  of  us  to  the  North,  rise  the 
Hills  of  Gahlee. 

The  natm-al  divisions  of  the  country  deteimined  its 
pohtical  divisions.  In  ancient  times,  when  communication 
was  slow  and  difficult,  some  natural  feature  of  a  country — 
a  mountain  or  plain  or  river — was  the  bamer  interposed 
by  natiu'e,  which  separated  one  kingdom,  or  province, 
from  another.  Thus  the  Province  of  Samaria  ended  with 
the  hOls,  and  in  descending  to  the  plain,  we  enter  another 
province  which  figures  far  more  conspicuously  in  the  New 
Testament  history — that  of  Galilee. 

Riding  over  the  plain,  a  couple  of  hoiu's  brought  us  to 
a  hill,  on  which  is  perched  a  wi'etched  village,  but  which 
was  once  a  habitation  of  princes  ;  for  this  is  Jezeeel,  where 
Ahab,  when  he  had  his  capital  in  Samaiia,  had  his  country 
palace,  his  Versailles,  which  was  the  scene  of  many  a  revel 
and  many  a  tragedy.  Here  was  Naboth's  vineyai'd,  of 
which  Jezebel,  more  resolute  than  her  cowardly  husband 
Ahab,  who  did  not  dare  to  strike,  stirred  him  up  to  get 


114  JEZREEL    AND    GILBOA. 

possession  by  plotting  the  murder  of  its  owner — a  crime  to 
he  avenged  on  herself,  for  here  infiuiated  men  threw  the 
wicked  queen  out  of  the  palace  window,  and  in  Naboth's 
vineyard  the  dogs  licked  up  her  blood !  Of  such  tragic 
tales,  how  much  of  ancient  histoiy  is  made  up,  and  of 
modem  history  also  ;  for  human  natui'e  does  not  change 
with  the  progress  of  civilization,  and  human  selfishness, 
however  veiled  by  forms,  is  still  the  same.  Boast  as  we 
may  of  "  new  men,  new  times,"  we  find  in  every  age  the 
same  old  world,  "  the  same  old  crimes." 

But  we  ai'e  in  the  neighborhood  of  a  tragedy  greater 
and  more  mournful  than  the  death  of  Ahab  and  Jezebel, 
for  the  hill  of  Jezreel  is  at  the  western  extremity  of  Mount 
Gilboa,  on  which  the  IsraeUtes  were  defeated  by  the  Phil- 
istines— a  national  calamity,  which  threatened  the  ruin  of 
the  Hebrew  State,  but  the  interest  of  which  to  after  gen- 
erations has  been  more  of  a  personal  character,  since  on 
that  field  perished  Saul  and  Jonathan,  whose  unhappy  fate 
was  mourned  by  David  in  one  of  the  most  beautiful  strains 
of  elegiac  poetry  that  ever  touched  the  heart  of  the  world. 
Looking  up  to  that  elevated  plateau,  where  the  battle 
raged  and  "  the  mighty "  fell,  the  traveller  cannot  help 
recalling  the  lamentation,  which  was  the  more  suri:)rising 
because  the  life  of  him  who  made  it  had  been  sought  by 
him  over  whom  he  lamented.  Yet  as  a  loyal  Hebrew, 
David  could  not  but  mourn  the  defeat  of  his  people  and 
the  death  of  their  king.  Hence  this  outburst  of  patriotic 
grief :  "  The  beauty  of  Israel  is  slain  upon  thy  high  places  ; 
how  are  the  mighty  fallen !  Ye  mountains  of  Gilboa,  let 
there  be  no  dew,  neither  let  there  be  rain  upon  you  [a 
malediction  which  seems  to  be  fulfilled  in  its  rocky  desola- 
tion], for  there  the  shield  of  the  mighty  was  vilely  cast 
away."  But  the  keenest  soitow  of  the  minstrel  is  for  the 
death  of  his  friend  :  "  I  am  distressed  for  thee,  my  brother 


SHUN  EM    AND    NAIX.  115 

Jonathan  :  very  pleasant  hast  thou  been  unto  me  :  thy 
love  to  me  "svas  wonderful,  passing  the  love  of  women." 
Yeb  with  what  grace  does  he  include  both  in  this  :  "  Saul 
and  Jonathan  were  lovely  and  pleasant  in  theii'  lives,  and 
in  their  death  they  were  not  divided." 

These  sad  dirges  are  I'elieved  by  a  more  jubilant  strain 
as  we  ride  over  the  hill  of  Jezreel,  and  on  the  further  slope 
come  upon  the  fountain  of  Gideon,  the  heroic  leader,  who 
with  his  little  band  of  three  hundred — ^just  as  many  as  the 
Greeks  had  at  Thermopylse — stole  in  the  darkness  of  night 
upon  the  enemy  scattered  far  and  wide  upon  the  plains, 
and  by  the  suddenness  and  vigor  of  the  attack,  created  a 
panic  in  the  camp  of  the  Amalekites,  which  sent  them 
down  the  vaUey  of  Jezreel  in  so  hurried  flight,  that  they 
stayed  not  till  the}^  had  passed  over  the  fords  of  the  divid- 
ing river  and  sought  safety  in  theii'  own  coiintry  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Jordan. 

Leaving  Jezreel  with  its  heroic  and  its  bloody  memo- 
ries, another  hoiu''s  ride  brings  us  to  a  spot  with  more 
tender  associations,  where  in  place  of  the  haughty  Jezebel, 
our  interest  gathers  round  a  poor  woman  and  her  dead 
chUd,  for  this  is  Shunem,  the  scene  of  the  raising  of  the 
Shunemite's  son.  On  this  hill  once  stood  a  village  in 
which  Elisha,  coming  from  Carmel,  often  found  a  home 
in  the  house  of  a  good  woman,  who  had  prepared  him 
a  prophet's  chamber  and  showed  him  hospitaUty,  a  kind- 
ness which  was  to  retm'n  to  her  when  in  the  hour  of 
her  despair  she  sought  him  among  the  rocks  of  his 
mountain  retreat.  Hither  he  came  at  her  call  to  give 
comfort  to  the  mourner  by  giving  life  to  the  dead.  What 
a  pathos  there  is  in  these  old  Bible  stories !  The  place  is 
not  far  removed  fifom  that  of  a  second  resurrection,  for  it 
is  but  an  houi-'s  ride  from  Shunem  to  Nain,  where  oiu* 
Lord  met  the  funeral  procession  passing  from  the  gates. 


116  THE    MODERN    SnUNEMITEF?. 

There  is  nothing  in  all  the  Gospels — not  even  the  raising 
of  LazaiTis,  which  is  more  tender  than  that  which  is  told  in 
these  few  words  :  "  Behold  a  dead  man  carried  out— the 
only  son  of  his  mother  and  she  was  a  widow !  And  when 
the  Lord  saw  her,  he  had  compassion  on  her  and  said  unto 
her,  "Weep  not.  And  he  came  and  touched  the  bier  :  and 
they  that  bai'e  him  stood  still.  And  he  said,  Young  man, 
I  say  unto  thee.  Arise.  And  he  that  was  dead  sat  up  and 
began  to  speak.     And  he  dehvered  him  to  his  mother." 

In  the  present  village  of  Shujiem  there  is  nothing 
sacred  but  a  memory.  Like  the  gi-eater  nvunber  of  vil- 
lages in  Palestine,  it  is  only  a  collection  of  mud  hovels. 
We  rode  through  it  stared  at  by  all  the  men,  women  and 
children,  gathered  at  the  doors,  and  barked  at  by  all  the 
dogs,  which  took  good  care  to  keep  at  a  safe  distance,  as 
they  were  mounted  on  the  roofs,  fi'om  which  they  yelped 
defiance  at  the  stranger.  The  people  flocked  after  us  to 
the  further  side  of  the  village,  wliere  we  halted,  and  turn- 
ing aside  from  the  bridle  path  through  a  cactus  hedge,  to 
a  quiet  spot,  we  hitched  our  horses  to  the  trees,  and 
spreading  ourselves  on  a  slope  under  the  shade  of  a  clumji 
of  fig  trees,  proceeded  to  discuss  our  luncheon,  at  which  a 
large  proportion  of  the  population  "  assisted."  It  was  a 
hungry  looking  crowd.  Indeed  it  may  be  said  that  these 
people  are  always  hungiy  :  they  always  have  a  famished 
look.  I  have  a  guilty  feeling  as  we  enjoy  our  plentiful 
repasts  at  seeing  poor  children  sit  round  -with  hungry  eyes, 
as  if  they  did  not  know  what  it  was  to  have  a  full  meal, 
and  who  snap  at  an^^hing  that  we  cast  away,  licking  clean 
every'  tin  box  that  has  been  packed  with  sardines,  and 
gnawing  on  every  chicken  bone.  I  hardly  wonder  that 
they  grow  up  a  generation  of  thieves,  when  they  see  trav- 
ellers pass  by,  well  clothed  and  weU  fed,  while  they  are 
both  hungry  and  naked.     The  head  man  of  the  village  has 


A    RIDE    TO    EXDOR.  117 

not  a  pfood  reputation.  Floyd  drew  his  picture  for  us  (it 
was  well  the  sheikh  did  not  understand  English)  while  we 
now  and  then  gave  a  side  glance  at  him,  noticing  his  ill- 
favored  countenance.  We  imagined  him  to  be  debating  in 
his  mind  whether  he  should  rob  us,  or  be  content  with 
levying  toll,  or  begging  a  large  backsheesh.  Happily  he 
chose  the  latter,  perhaps  thinking  discretion  the  better 
part  of  valor,  but  he  and  his  j^eople  literally  "  ate  us  up " 
with  their  eyes,  and  as  we  mounted  for  our  journey,  stood 
watching  us  till  the  last  horse  had  disappeared  in  the 
distance. 

As  we  descended  once  more  upon  the  broad  spaces  of 
Esdraelon,  with  a  fair  field  before  us,  it  seemed  as  if  now 
were  a  good  time  for  that  "  gentle  knight,"  whom  we  have 
been  so  long  expecting,  to  "  come  pricking  o'er  the  plain"; 
but  any  equesti*ian  performances  on  ovir  part  were  checked 
by  the  state  of  the  soil  under  our  horses'  feet  :  for  the 
"  latter  rains  "  had  done  their  work  so  efi'ectually  that  the 
Plain  of  Esdraelon  was  what  Robei-t  Hall  declai'ed  Gill's 
Body  of  Divinity  to  be — "  a  continent  of  mud."  With  such 
impediments  to  oui'  rapid  movement,  we,  who  were  of  a 
sober  turn  of  mind,  moved  slowly.  But  Floyd  and  my 
tent-mate,  Weeden,  who  were  both  well  mounted  and  fond 
of  a  chase,  seized  the  shghtest  occasion  to  try  the  mettle 
of  theii*  horses.  Just  now  the  di'agoman  points  to  a  hamlet 
on  a  hillside,  an  hour's  ride  away,  as  Endor,  where  Said 
went  to  consult  the  Witch  of  Endor  on  the  night  before  his 
last  battle  ;  and  instantly  they  bound  away,  as  if  the  Witch 
of  Endor  had  dashed  at  their  horses'  heels,  which  fly  at  her 
touch  like  Tarn  O'Shanter's  mare. 

But  we  who  jog  along  more  quietly,  have  plenty  of 
occupation  for  oiu'  thoughts  in  the  historical  recollections 
which  rise  from  the  ground  on  every  pari  of  this  cele- 
brated plain.     It   has  been  the   battle-field  not   only  of 


118  THE    BATTLK-FIELD    OF   NATIONS. 

Palestine,  but  of  all  the  East.  The  physical  character  of 
the  countr\-  has  determined  its  military  history — its  wai's, 
battles,  and  sieges.  When  the  Israehtes  crossed  the  Jor- 
dan, they  advanced  against  the  hills,  and  their  earlier 
battles  were  fought  with  the  mountain  tribes  which  held 
the  passes  of  Benjamin.  But  the  Plain  of  Esdraelon — like 
that  of  Phihstia — was  formed  for  gi'eat  armies,  and  has 
been  marched  over  by  kings  and  conquerors,  coming  from 
Ass^Tia  and  Babylon  on  the  East,  and  Egypt  on  the  South, 
who  have  met  in  this  great  plain  as  their  field  of  battle. 
Such  an  open  space  admitted  of  a  style  of  warfare  not  pos- 
sible among  the  mountains.  When  the  Israelites,  who  had 
been  victorious  over  the  hill-tribes,  came  to  the  "low 
country,"  they  slu-ank  with  terror  from  a  new  enemy  with 
new  weapons  of  war,  and  murmui'ed  bitterly  that  the 
Canaanites,  who  "dwelt  in  the  laud  of  the  valley,"  had 
chai'iots  of  iron.  But  even  these  were  not  invincible  by 
courage,  for  here  Barak,  inspired  by  the  song  of  Deborah, 
rushed  from  the  hills  and  swept  away  the  nine  hundred 
ii'on  chariots  of  Sisera.  As  we  ride  along  this  plain,  now 
so  still  and  quiet,  we  recaU  the  terrible  scenes  it  has  wit- 
nessed, and  seem  to  heai*  the  tread  of  the  mighty  hosts 
that  have  swept  over  it.  This  way  passed  the  army  of 
Sennacherib  : 

The  Assyrian  came  down  like  the  wolf  on  the  fold, 
His  cohorts  were  gleaming  in  purple  and  gold, 
And  the  sheen  of  their  spears  was  like  stars  on  the  sea, 
When  the  blue  wave  rolls  nightly  on  deep  Galilee. 

The  Assj'rian  has  been  followed  by  the  Roman,  the 
Crusader,  and  the  Turk.  Even  the  sacred  height  of  Mount 
Tabor  has  given  name  to  a  battle  which  was  fought,  not 
upon  it,  but  in  sight  of  it,  and  on  this  plain,  by  Napoleon, 
when,  marching  from  Egj-pt  by  way  of  Jafifjx,  (where  he 
left  a  name  stiU  held  in  hon'or  by  his  inhuman  massacre  of 


MOUNT    TABOR.  119 

prisoners,)  he  was  attempting  the  conquest  of  S}Tia,  from 
which  he  could  march  on  Constantinople,  and  thus  "  enter 
Europe  by  the  back  door."  His  daring  dream  of  conquest 
was  stopped  but  a  few  miles  from  this  by  the  stubborn  resist- 
ance of  a  few  English  troops  that  held  the  fortress  of  Acre. 

Here  soldiers  of  all  nations  have  plunged  their  swords 
in  each  others'  breasts,  and  falling  face  to  face,  have  cursed 
each  other  in  all  the  languages  of  men.  The  soil  is  rich 
and  heavy  with  the  blood  of  countless  armies.  With  these 
clouds  of  war  hanging  over  it,  it  is  not  strange  that  in  the 
Apocalypse,  the  last  great  conflict  of  the  world,  which  is  to 
precede  the  reign  of  universal  peace,  is  pictured  as  the 
battle  of  Armageddon — that  is,  of  Megiddo,  the  ancient 
name  of  the  Plain  of  Esdraelon. 

From  these  scenes  of  battle  and  blood,  we  turn  to  a 
spot  associated  with  memories  of  the  Prince  of  Peace.  On 
the  northeastern  edge  of  the  plain  stands  Mount  Tabor, 
long  supposed  to  be  the  mount  of  the  Transfiguration. 
The  tradition  is  now  generally  discredited,  and  the  scene 
of  that  wonderful  apparition  is  placed  on  Mount  Hermon 
overlooking  Banias,  the  ancient  Cffisarea-Phihppi.  One 
cannot  but  regret  the  efi'ect  of  modern  research,  when  it 
disturbs  a  beUef  so  long  accepted,  and  so  in  accord  ^-ith 
the  fitness  of  the  place  itself.  Tabor  differs  whoUy  fi-om 
the  other  mountain  of  the  plain,  Gilboa,  whose  summit  is 
bare  and  bleak,  while  Tabor  is  wooded  and  green,  as  if 
made  to  be  pressed  by  angels'  feet.  Of  majestic  height,  its 
lofty  dome  rising  to  an  altitude  that  lifts  it  quite  above  the 
damps  and  mists  of  the  j)lain  into  a  pui'er  atmosphere,  it 
stands  midway  between  earth  and  heaven,  as  if  to  invite 
visitants  from  the  other  world  to  an  interview,  from  which, 
unseen  by  mortal  eyes,  they  might  return  to  their  heavenly 
home. 

But  even  Tabor  fades  in  interest  as  it  fades  in  sight,  as 


120  SATIUDAY    EVENING    T\    NAZARETO. 

the  westerinp^  sun  strikes  on  the  Hills  of  Galilee,  now  ris- 
ing before  lis.  They  do  not  rise  abniptly,  but  by  a  gi-adual 
ascent,  so  that  we  wand  hither  and  thither  as  we  climb 
slowly  upward,  till  at  lenpfth  we  see  in  the  distance  a  vil- 
lage nestled  among  the  hills,  in  a  valley  so  narrow  as  to  be 
almost  a  glen.  That  little  mountain  town  is  Nazareth !  The 
first  glimpse  hushed  us,  as  did  the  first  sight  of  Jerusalem, 
for  w^e  were  coming  upon  holy  ground.  Before  us  was  one 
of  the  places  of  pilgiimage  that  we  most  desired  to  see  in 
all  Palestine  ;  as  one  of  the  few  in  a  land  under  Moslem 
rule  which  is  sacred  only  to  the  memory  of  our  Lord. 
Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem,  and  died  in  Jerusalem,  but 
the  greater  part  of  his  life  was  spent  in  Nazareth.  As  we 
climbed  up  the  steep  approach,  but  one  thought  was  present 
to  us — how  often  the  Holy  Child  had  rambled  over  these 
hills.  Full  of  such  musings,  we  rode  through  the  town  to 
the  northwestern  side,  where  we  pitched  our  tents  on  a 
rising  ground,  from  which  we  looked  down  into  the  valley. 
It  was  Saturday  evening !  If  Burns  wrote  so  touchingly 
of  the  Cotter's  Saturday  night  in  Scotland,  what  might  a 
traveller,  if  he  were  only  inspired  with  a  little  of  the  genius 
of  Burns,  write  of  the  evening  shades,  the  gathering 
twilight,  which  fell  upon  him  on  a  Saturday  evening  in 
Nazareth  ? 


CHAPTER  XI. 

NAZARETH REN  AN 's  LIFE  OF  JESUS CAN  THAT  LIFE 

BE  EXPLAINED  AS  IN  THE  ORDER  OF  NATURE? 

This  is  the  place!  Here  the  real  life  began!  Christ 
indeed  was  bom  in  Bethlehem,  but  Nazareth  was  the  home 
of  his  mother,  and  hither,  after  the  flight  into  Egypt,  he 
was  brought,  still  a  child  ;  here  he  grew,  not  only  to  boy- 
hood but  to  manhood  ;  and  except  his  visits  to  Jerusalem 
at  the  annual  feasts,  it  may  almost  be  said  that  he  knew  no 
other  world  than  that  within  the  circuit  of  these  hills. 

That  the  greater  paii;  of  the  life  of  ovu'  Lord  was  passed 
at  Nazareth  (he  was  called  a  Nazarene),  gives  it  an  interest 
to  the  Christian  traveller  above  all  other  places  in  Pales- 
tine, save  perhaps  Bethlehem  where  he  was  bom,  and 
Jerusalem  where  he  was  cinicified.  Of  course,  it  is  full  of 
localities  made  sacred,  in  tradition  if  not  in  reality,  by 
incidents  of  his  life.  Close  to  the  spot  where  we  camped 
is  an  old  Greek  church,  called  the  Church  of  the  Annun- 
ciation, on  the  site  of  which  it  is  claimed  that  the  angel 
appeared  to  Mary  and  announced  to  her  that  she  should 
bear  a  son  and  call  his  name  Jesus.  The  tradition  is 
rejected  by  the  Latins,  who  are  not  disposed  to  leave  to 
the  Greeks  the  honor,  and  the  profit,  of  being  the  sole 
possessors  of  a  site  so  sacred  ;  and  who  have  a  church  of 


122  NAZAKETH. 

their  own,  bearing  the  same  name,  and  claiming  to  mai'k 
the  same  hallowed  spot. 

Of  course  every  traveller  makes  the  round  of  these  holy 
places — visiting  the  house  of  Mary  and  the  cai-penter's 
shop  of  Joseph,  the  site  of  the  synagogue  in  which  Jesus 
preached,  and  the  brow  of  the  hill  from  which  they  would 
cast  him  down.  One  who  inquires  into  the  genuineness 
of  these  sites,  finds  that  there  is  little  to  support  them. 
Thus  this  scene  is  transferred  from  its  natvaral  site,  a  cliff 
within  the  town,  "  whereon  the  city  was  built,"  to  a  lofty 
peak  two  miles  away,  which  is  called  the  Mount  of  Pre- 
cipitation. But  it  is  best  not  to  inquire  into  these  things 
too  narrowly,  or  to  waste  time  in  sifting  out  a  few  grains 
of  wheat  from  the  chaff  of  tradition.  Better  to  rest  con- 
tent with  things  about  which  there  can  be  no  dispute.  At 
least  the  natural  features  of  Nazareth  remain  unchanged. 
The  hills  which  suiTound  it  are  the  same  to  which  our 
Lord  looked  up  from  his  mother's  door.  The  centre  of 
the  ancient  town  was  probably  the  Fountain  which  bears 
the  Virgin's  name,  for  in  these  Eastern  villages  the  place 
to  which  all  repair  to  di'aw  water,  is  what  the  market 
place  is  in  the  little  towns  of  Italy  or  of  Gennany.  To 
this  foimtain  still  come  the  daughters  of  Nazareth,  fiUing 
their  large  pitchers,  or  urns,  from  the  full-flowing  stream, 
and  balancing  them  gracefully  on  their  shoulders.  No 
one  can  doubt  that  it  is  the  same  which  flowed  here  two 
thousand  years  ago,  and  to  which  she  whose  name  it  now 
bears  came  a  thousand  times,  often  leading  by  the  hand 
the  wonderful  child. 

With  such  associations  and  traditions,  Nazareth  has 
natvirally  attracted  pilgrims,  till  it  has  become,  like  Bethle- 
hem, a  Christian  town.  There  is  not  a  Jew  in  Nazareth  ; 
there  are  IMoslems,  but  the  Christians  ai-e  in  large  majority, 
and  the  superior  character  of  the  population  is  seen  in  the 


THE   MODERN    VILLAGE.  123 

better  houses,  which  instead  of  heing  of  mud,  as  in  most 
of  the  villages  of  Palestine,  are  of  stone,  and  have  at  least 
an  appearance  of  sohdity.  Tlie  Christian  community,  as 
usual  in  the  East,  is  divided  between  the  Greeks  and  the 
Latins,  though  not  in  equal  proportions,  the  Greeks  being 
much  the  more  numerous,  although  the  Latins  to  keep  up 
their  rivalship,  outdo  the  Greeks  in  architecture,  their  great 
Franciscan  Convent  quite  overshadowing  the  little  town. 

Apart  from  its  sacred  memories,  Nazareth  has  nothing 
to  attract  the  eye  of  the  traveller.  The  hills  of  Galilee  are 
indeed  less  barren  than  those  of  Judea.  Biit  the  town 
itself,  or  rather  the  village,  has  no  beauty.  Indeed,  no 
Eastern  village  has  any  beauty  as  compared  vdth  a  village 
of  Old  England,  or  of  New  England.  How  can  a  village 
be  pretty  in  which  all  the  houses  are  of  one  uniform  shape 
and  color  ?  In  an  English  village  there  is  a  variety  of 
construction,  which  saves  it  from  the  appearance  of  mo- 
notony. The  country  house  stands  on  a  green  lawn,  with 
its  central  mass  relieved  from  heaviness  by  its  projecting 
porch  and  shaded  veranda  and  sloping  roof,  with  here 
and  there  angles  and  projections,  casting  shadows  on  its 
sides.  Here  the  houses  have  as  much  variety  as  so  many 
blocks  of  stone  hewn  out  of  a  quarry.  Each  is  a  j^erfect 
cube,  "  the  length  and  the  breadth  and  the  height  of  it  are 
equal."  The  top  of  the  house  is  square,  like  the  founda- 
tion ;  the  roof  is  as  flat  as  the  floor.  True,  these  flat  roofs 
serve  a  purpose  in  the  East,  where  the  oppressive  heat 
restrains  the  outdoor  life  of  the  people,  who  keep  indoors 
as  much  as  they  can  in  the  heat  of  the  day,  but  at  night 
go  up  on  the  housetops  to  enjoy  the  cooler  air,  and  look 
up  into  the  unclouded  heaven.  Often  they  sleep  on  the 
roofs,  which  are  thus  useful  if  not  picturesque. 

The  color,  too,  is  not  at  all  grateful  to  the  eye.  Built 
of  the  limestone  of  the  country,  the  houses  are  of  such  a 


124  THE    CHILDHOOD    OF    CHRIST. 

glaring  white  that  it  is  painful  to  look  upon  them  in  the 
full  blaze  of  the  midday  sun.  This  bai'eness  is  relieved 
only  at  one  season  of  the  year,  in  the  Springtime,  when 
the  houses  are  paiily  hidden  by  the  abundant  vegetation  ; 
by  the  gardens  of  olive  and  fig  trees,  and  the  vines  that 
creejD  over  the  walls. 

But  the  interest  of  Nazareth  is  not  in  its  scenery  so 
much  as  in  its  history  :  not  its  houses  or  its  hills,  but  the 
fact  that  it  was  the  cradle  of  our  Religion,  as  it  was  the 
home  of  its  Founder.  As  a  town,  it  was  in  Galilee  what 
Bethlehem  was  in  Judah,  "the  least  of  its  thousands." 
But  it  witnessed  the  beginning  of  a  great  history.  In  the 
Himalayas  there  is  a  stream  which  flows  forth  from  under 
a  glacier.  It  may  be  no  more  than  others  which  issue 
from  that  region  of  eternal  snow  :  but  it  is  the  source  of 
the  Ganges,  a  river  which  to  hundreds  of  millions  is  Kke 
the  Eiver  flowing  out  of  the  throne  of  God.  So  from  this 
little  mountain  town  of  Galilee  has  gone  forth  a  stream 
which  has  flowed  into  all  the  world,  and  had  the  greatest 
influence  on  the  destinies  of  mankind. 

Here  our  Saviom^  passed  his  childhood.  And  what  was 
it?  Was  he  like  other  childi-en,  fond  of  sports?  This 
is  quite  possible.  Perhajjs  he  was  not  an  only  child  ; 
although  many  Biblical  scholars  are  of  opinion  that  those 
who  are  spoken  of  as  his  brothers  and  sisters  were  his 
cousins,  but  even  in  that  case  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt 
that  he  lived  with  them  in  the  free  and  uni'estrained  inter- 
com-se  of  childhood.  There  is  something  very  sweet  in 
the  thought  that  his  early  daj's  were  happy  ;  that  he  who 
was  to  suffer  so  much  in  Life  and  in  death,  had  at  least  a 
few  years  of  brightness  ;  that  this  quiet  valley  was  the 
place 

"  Where  once  his  careless  childhood  strayed, 
A  stranger  yet  to  pain." 


THE    CniLDHOOD    OF    CHRIST.  125 

But  it  is  difficult  to  think  of  his  childhood  as  "  careless," 
not  only  in  the  sense  of  thoughtless,  but  even  in  the  lighter 
sense  of  being  free  fi'om  care.  His  question  in  the  tem- 
ple, "Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  about  my  Father's 
business  ? "  indicated  that  he  was  already  beginning  to 
feel  the  bm'den  of  responsibility.  He  was  now  twelve 
yeai's  of  age.  "With  such  thoughts  in  his  young  heart,  he 
was  yet  to  wait  eighteen  years  before  the  time  of  activity 
should  come.  In  regard  to  this  long  period — more  than 
half  of  his  whole  life  —  the  Gospels  are  silent.  He 
"  increased  in  wisdom."  But  in  what  way  ? — by  what 
influences? — under  what  teachers?  Of  all  this  the  Sciip- 
tm-es  say  nothing.  For  him  no  doubt  it  was  a  period  of 
preparation.  But  what  a  proportion  between  the  period 
of  preparation  and  that  of  action!  The  former  was  six 
times  the  latter.  There  is  a  lesson  in  this  long  seclusion, 
this  apparent  inactivity,  which  is  a  rebvike  to  our  impa- 
tience to  appear  too  early  on  the  scene.  We  may  weU 
restrain  our  eagerness  when  we  remember  the  patient 
waiting  of  our  Master  : 

God  doth  not  need 
Either  man's  work,  or  his  own  gifts ; 


They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait. 

In  the  early  centuries,  and  during  the  Middle  Ages,  the 
monks,  who  were  never  wanting  in  devices  to  feed  popular 
superstition,  filled  up  this  large  gap  in  the  history  of  om' 
Lord  with  childish  legends.  But  so  far  as  any  authentic 
history  goes,  this  portion  of  the  life  of  Christ  is  veiled  in 
absolute  obscuiity. 

But  some  modern  ^Titers  who  despise  legends  and  tra- 
ditions, take  equal  Hberties  in  another  way.  Since  they 
know  nothing  of  the  early  Hfe  of  our  Lord,  they  gather 
from  the  histories  of  the  time  such  general  knowledge  as 


12G  RENAN's    life    of   JESUS. 

they  can  of  the  state  of  Galilee,  from  which  they  form  an 
opinion  of  the  influences  around  him,  and  so  constnict  a 
theor}'  of  his  "  education,"  of  the  way  in  which  he  spent 
the  thirty  years  before  he  entered  on  his  ministry.  The 
sacred  narrative  tells  us  only  that  "  he  grew  in  stature  " — 
to  i^hysical  manhood  ;  "  and  in  wisdom,"  which  may  mean 
in  learning,  in  knowledge,  or  in  moral  elevation  ;  "  and  in 
favor  with  God  and  man."  But  they  talk  learnedly  about 
his  studies  and  his  masters  and  teachers. 

Renan,  the  celebrated  French  author,  has  written  a  Life 
of  Jesus,  which  in  some  respects  is  a  fascinating  piece  of 
biography.     It  is  full  of  poetry  and  eloquence,  and  is  writ- 
ten in  a  reverent  spirit,  although  it  rejects  entirely  what  is 
supematm*al  in  the  bii-th  and  in  the  life  of  our  Lord.     He 
beheves  him  to  have  been  born,  not  in  Bethlehem,  but  in 
Nazareth,  and  to  have  been  the  son  of  Joseph  as  well  as  of 
Maiy.     He  does  not  admit  that  he  was  of  the  house   of 
David,  and  even  questions  his  Hebrew  descent,  since  at  the 
time  that  he  was  born,  Galilee  "  had  a  very  mixed  popula- 
tion— not  only  Jews,  but  Phoenicians,  Sj^ians,  Arabs,  and 
even  Greeks  "     "  It  is  impossible,"  says  Renan,  as  if  this 
were  to  the  honor  of  Jesus,  "  to  raise  any  question  of  race, 
and  to  search  what  blood  flowed  in  the  veins  of  him  who 
was  to  efface  all  distinctions  of  blood  in  a  common  human- 
ity."    And  yet  this  Being,  sprung  from  he  knows  not  what 
race,  he  concedes  to  have  been  the  gi'eatest  Personage  of 
whom  history  makes  mention,  and   the   estabhshment  of 
his  religion  the  grandest  event  in  the  history  of  the  world. 
On  this  basis  of  pui'e  naturalism  he  attempts  to  con- 
struct a  Life  of  Jesus,  but  the  attempt  tries  all  his  resoiu'ces 
of  historical  knowledge  and  subtle  ingenuity.     How  came 
this  wonderful  character  to  appear  in  such  a  comer  of  the 
world?     The  ancient  astrologers  had  a  theory  that  great 
human  intellects  were  the  product  of  celestial  influences  ; 


■WAS  TIIS  LIFE  IX  THE  OKDER  OF  NATURE?        127 

thut  tliere  was  some  conjunction  of  the  stars  that  sbone  on 
tlieir  birth.  But  what  was  the  conjunction  of  stars  that 
wrought  in  producing  this  "  grand  soul "  ?  Astronomers 
could  easily  tell  us,  reckoning  backward  to  the  year  of  our 
Saviour's  birth.  Was  it  "  the  sweet  influences  of  Pleiades  " 
that  feU  on  the  Galilean  HiUs  ?  Was  there  one  hour — one 
moment — in  all  the  tide  of  time  when  the  celestial  influ- 
ences combined  to  produce  an  intellect  and  a  character  of 
which  there  had  been  no  example  in  history  before  ? 

In  place  of  the  old  astrologers  has  come  in  these  days  a 
generation  of  wise  men,  who  account  for  everything  by 
"  nature."  The  heavens  do  not  interfere  with  the  coitrse 
of  human  afihirs  ;  the  earth  alone  is  sufficient  for  her  chil- 
dren. Ever^-thing  extraordinary  in  the  realm  of  intelli- 
gence is  explained  by  "genius,"  a  word  which  appears 
constantly  in  the  pages  of  Renan,  and  which,  if  vague,  is 
convenient,  as  it  may  be  used  to  account  for  whatever  one 
cannot  understand.  Such  writers  make  light  of  "  inspira- 
tion," but  talk  of  "  genius  "  as  if  it  were  something  super- 
human, if  not  divine — an  effluence  of  intellectual  force 
fi'om  the  heart  of  nature,  which,  by  influences  celestial  or 
teiTestrial,  is  nourished  to  the  height  of  intellectual  great- 
ness. The  genius  of  Shakespeare  was  an  extraordinary 
gift  of  natui'e,  if  not  a  direct  inspiration  of  the  Almighty. 
Those  who  trace  its  beginning  and  its  growth,  recognize 
the  subtle,  the  invisible  influences  of  nature,  as  in  the  well 
known  sonnet  to  the  Avon  : 

"In  thy  green  lap  was  Nature's  darling  laid." 

But  in  what  "  green  lap  "  of  natiire  was  cradled  the  spirit 
of  the  young  Hebrew  ?  He  was  not  the  darling  of  natiu'e 
or  of  fortune.  He  was  not  bom  on  the  banks  of  the  Avon, 
but  among  the  rugged  Galilean  hills. 

No  doubt,  there  is  a  wide  difference  in  the  constitutions 


128  THE    "education"    OF   JESUS. 

of  men.  Tliere  are  natures  so  delicately  sensitive  to  spii'it- 
ual  influences,  that  they  catch  insjiiration  from  the  common 
ail*  ■which  others  breathe,  but  which  in  them  works  to  no 
such  fine  issues.  "  What  time  the  South  T\-ind  blows,  the 
violets  open  their  petals  to  the  sun,"  and  so  there  ai'e  cer- 
tain influences  which  come  from  the  very  elements,  which 
touch  the  human  sovd  and  quicken  it  to  life.  Such  influ- 
ences, the  modem  school  of  naturalists  will  have  it,  touched 
and  kindled  the  imagination  of  the  child  Jesus,  dimly  con- 
scious of  his  transcendent  powers,  yet  having  nothing  to 
converse  with  but  natui'e.  ("  He  always  kept  close  to 
nature,"  says  Renan.)  It  is  easy  to  picture  the  "  mar- 
vellous boy  "  climbing  the  heights  around  Nazareth,  and 
looking  with  his  great  eyes  upon  what  seemed  to  him  the 
boundless  plain  below,  bej^ond  which  lay  Jenisalem,  the 
capital  of  his  country  and  his  faith  ;  and  off"  to  the  Sea 
which  rolled  upon  the  horizon,  the  emblem  of  immensity, 
of  infinity,  and  etemitj.  And  so  in  silence  and  commvm- 
ion  with  nature,  his  soul  grew  to  its  immeasurable  great- 
ness. 

These  are  pleasing  fancies  with  which  historians  and 
philosophers  entertain  themselves.  WTiat  a  pity  that  they 
are  mere  creations  of  the  brain,  without  a  particle  of 
evidence  to  serve  as  a  foundation  for  the  airy  superstruc- 
ture. 

But  had  not  Ckrist  masters  and  teachers?  Renan 
devotes  a  whole  chapter  to  the  "  education  of  Jesus,"  in 
which  out  of  the  slenderest  materials  he  weaves  a  theory 
of  the  influences  that  may  have  reached  him.  He  makes 
much  of  the  intellectual  activity  of  the  time.  Jesus  was 
bom  in  the  Augustan  age.  May  not  some  influence  from 
Rome,  or  the  philosophy  of  Greece,  a  country  which  was 
much  nearer,  have  reached  the  Eastern  shore  of  the  Medi- 
terranean ?    Possibly,  but  it  would  have  afifected  only  the 


DID  CHRIST  SIT  AT  THE  FEKT  OF  KAI'.BIS?  120 

learned  and  tlie  p^reat.  It  is  hai'dly  possible  tliat  it  covild 
have  reached  a  little  mountain  to^vn  of  Galilee.  In  all  the 
teachings  of  Christ  there  appears  not  once  the  sUghtest 
evidence  that  he  had  so  much  as  heard  of  Rome,  except  as 
the  seat  of  the  Empii-e  of  Ctesar.  And  indeed  if  any  influ- 
ence could  have  come  from  the  "West,  so  full  of  skepticism 
and  materiahsm  was  the  i^hilosophy  of  that  age,  that  it 
would  have  been  positively  unfavorable  to  moral,  if  not  to 
intellectual,  gi'owth. 

But  what  he  did  not  leai'n  from  the  wise  men  of  Greece, 
may  he  not  have  learned  from  teachers  of  his  own  race, 
"  devout  men  who  were  waiting  for  the  consolation  of 
Israel "  ?  No  doubt  the  child  of  Marj  was  taught  in  the 
faith  of  her  fathers.  In  that  humble  home  there  was  a 
strong  Hebrew  sj^irit,  which  was  nourished  by  the  words 
of  seers  and  prophets.  May  he  not  have  sat  at  the  feet  of 
learned  rabbis,  as  Paul  sat  at  the  feet  of  Gamaliel  ?  We 
are  told  of  certain  Jewish  sects  which  existed  in  the  time 
of  Christ,  particulai'ly  the  Essenes,  who  taught  many  things 
which  are  in  striking  accordance  with  the  precepts  of  our 
Lord.  "  It  may  be  supposed,"  says  Renan,  "  that  the 
principles  of  Hillel  were  not  unkno\\Ti  to  him.  Hillel, 
fifty  years  before,  had  pronounced  aphorisms  which  had 
much  analogy  with  his.  By  his  poverty  meekly  borne,  by 
the  mildness  of  his  character,  by  the  opposition  he  made 
to  the  hj'pocrites  and  the  priests,  Hillel  was  the  true 
master  of  Christ,  if  it  be  pennitted  to  speak  of  a  master 
of  one  who  had  so  high  an  originahty."  By  this  kind 
of  loose  reasoning,  "  supposing  "  that  of  which  he  has  no 
evidence,  Renan  arrives  virtually  at  the  conclusion  that 
there  was  a  Chi-istianity  before  Christ  ;  that  he  merely  put 
it  into  a  more  complete  fonn,  crystallizing  elements  which 
had  long  been  in  solution  in  the  Hebrew  mind. 

This  is  a  very  ingenious  theory ;  nothing  is  wanting 


130      WAS  THERE  A  CHRISTIAMTV  P,EFORE  CHRIi^T? 

but  that  it  should  he  time.  But  uufoi-tunatel}'  there  is  not 
the  shghtest  evidence  that  Christ  belonged  to  the  sect  of 
the  Essenes,  or  was  taught  in  the  school  of  Hillel.  Had  it 
been  so,  would  not  a  nature  so  simple,  so  transparent  and 
sincere,  as  Chiist's  is  confessed  to  have  been,  have  made 
some  acknowledgment  to  his  masters  and  teachers  ?  instead 
of  which  he  always  si:)oke  in  his  own  name,  even  setting 
aside  the  authorit}'  of  Moses  and  the  prophets.  The 
theory  of  "  education  "  fails  as  utterly  as  that  of  "genius." 
The  greatest  teachers  could  not  give  what  thej^  did  not 
possess.  The  distance  is  so  immense  between  anything 
discovered  in  the  teachings  of  ancient  rabbis  and  the 
teaching  of  Christ,  that  it  is  impossible  to  suppose  one 
derived  from  the  other.  And  so  the  elaborate  theory  of 
Kenan,  on  which  he  has  constructed  the  life  of  Christ, 
breaks  down  at  every  point.  Indeed  if  the  appeal  be  to 
history,  it  may  be  shown  that  the  age  of  Christ  was 
unfriendly  to  the  ^ew  faith.  The  Jews  looked  for  a  tem- 
poral dehverer,  but  a  spiritual  teacher  they  were  never 
less  fitted  to  receive.  As  a  j^eople,  they  were  narrow  and 
bigoted  to  an  extreme — counting  that  they  only  were  the 
people  of  God,  and  that  all  others  were  accursed.  Those 
who  claimed  to  be  the  most  righteous,  were  the  most 
oppressive  and  cruel,  putting  heavy  burdens  on  others' 
shoidders,  but  not  touching  them  with  one  of  their  fingers. 
From  such  a  soil  sprang  the  consummate  flower  of  vii-tue. 
Out  of  ignorance  came  forth  wisdom  ;  out  of  pride  came 
forth  meekness  ;  out  of  selfishness  and  cruelty  came  forth 
a  love  which  embraced  all  mankind.  Was  this  a  "  natural " 
result  of  a  "  natural "  cause  ?  Believe  it  who  will.  All  the 
subtle  explanations  in  the  world  cannot  account  for  the 
Christ  on  the  principles  of  natui'alism.  The  ajipearance  of 
such  a  Being  was  not  in  the  course  of  natvu'e  ;  it  was  super- 
natural.    The  more  I  travel  in  these  Eastern  countries— 


A  GREATER  MIRACLE  THAN  HIS  DIVINITY.         131 

the  more  I  see  of  the  Jews — the  more  do  I  feel  that  to  sup- 
pose Jesus  Chiist  to  be  a  natural  j^roduct  of  such  a  race 
and  such  an  age,  is  to  suppose  a  gi'eater  miracle  than  to 
accept  his  divinity. 

Such  doubts  do  not  trouble  me  here.  In  the  region 
where  our  Lord  passed  the  greater  part  of  his  life,  the 
whole  story  of  the  Gospels  is  so  real,  it  fits  so  into  the  very 
landscape,  it  has  so  perfectly  the  couleur  locale  of  the  hills 
and  valleys,  that  one  passing  through  them  cannot  but 
recognize  the  literal  truth  of  all  in  the  New  Testament 
which  pertains  to  things  external.  Accepting  this,  one 
soon  accepts  the  supernatural  also  ;  and  instead  of  puz- 
zling his  brain  with  explanations  which  do  not  explain, 
and  theories  which  are  mere  guesses  at  truth,  he  accepts 
the  simple  aflSnnation  of  the  Apostles'  Creed,  that  Jesus 
Christ  "  was  conceived  by  the  Holy  Ghost  and  born  of  the 
Virgin  Mary." 

Such  reflections  occur  natiu-ally  to  one  spending  a  Sab- 
bath in  Nazareth.  But  the  day  is  passing,  and  before  it 
closes  let  us  go  out  to  take  one  more  view  of  a  region  so 
familial"  to  the  eye  and  the  footsteps  of  our  Lord.  In  the 
rear  of  our  camp,  forming  a  background  for  the  little  town, 
is  a  hill  which  rises  five  hundred  feet  above  the  valley 
below.  Towards  the  close  of  the  day  we  climbed  to  the 
top,  as  on  a  memorable  Sabbath  in  the  desei*t,  in  the  Oasis 
of  Feiran,  we  had  climbed  the  hill  where  Moses  knelt 
w'hile  Hur  and  Aaron  held  up  his  hands  tiU  the  going 
down  of  the  sun.  On  the  highest  point  is  an  ancient  Wely 
or  Moslem  tomb,  and  clambering  over  the  stones,  we 
perched  ourselves  on  its  arched  roof,  where  we  sat  down 
to  take  a  survey  of  the  country.  There  are  few  points  in 
Palestine  which  command  a  more  extensive  view.  Below 
us  lay  the  village  of  Nazai'eth,  shut  in  by  its  guardian  hills. 
Beyond  and  ai'ound  it  stretched  the  great  plain  of  Esdrae- 


132         j;x<;lisii  school  for  orphax  ciijls. 

Ion.  On  tlie  West  the  sun  was  sinking  behind  the  ridge 
of  Caxmel  into  the  Western  Sea,  while  northward  Hermon 
reared  his  lofty  head  against  the  sky,  his  crown  of  snow 
flushed  with  w^arnier  tints  as  it  caught  the  rays  of  the 
setting  sun.  It  was  a  scene  of  enchantment.  Could  we 
doubt  that  the  Master  had  a  thousand  times  climbed  to 
this  very  spot,  to  look  round  the  same  horizon? 

On  the  side  of  this  hill,  half  way  dowa.  the  descent, 
stands  one  of  the  noblest  institutions  in  Palestine,  for  the 
instruction  of  orphan  girls.  EstabHshed  by  the  EngUsh 
Female  Education  Society,  it  is  one  of  those  moniiments 
which  one  finds  everywhere  in  the  East,  and  for  that 
matter  everj^where  in  the  world,  of  the  Christian  liberality 
of  England.  It  is  under  the  charge  of  an  Enghsh  lady. 
Miss  Dickson,  who  received  us  kindly,  and  took  us  through 
the  large  biiilding,  in  which  we  could  not  but  admii-e  the 
completeness  of  the  recitation  rooms  and  dormitories,  and 
all  the  appointments,  which  were  such  as  might  be  looked 
for  in  a  Model  School  of  England  or  America.  At  last  she 
led  us  to  an  upper  hall,  where,  seated  on  benches  rising 
one  behind  the  other,  were  perhaps  a  hundred  children, 
whom  she  asked  to  sing  us  a  hymn.  They  had  learned  a 
little  Enghsh,  and  at  once  began  the  famihar  lines  : 

"  What  means  this  eager,  anxious  throng, 
Which  moves  with  busy  haste  along — 
These  wondrous  gatherings  day  by  day  ? 
What  means  this  strange  commotion,  pray  ? 
In  accents  hushed  the  throng  reply, 
Jesus  of  Nazareth  passeth  by." 

These  words  would  have  been  pleasant  to  hear  anywhere  ; 
but  they  were  pecuharly  touching  in  Nazai'eth,  and  fi-om 
the  hps  of  children.  The  soft  melody  seemed  to  be  still 
in  the  air  as  we  descended  the  long  flight  of  steps,  and 
made  our  way  down  the  hillside  to  our  camp.     It  was  in 


JKSUS  OF  XAZARETH  PASSETH  BY.       133 

sweet  and  tender  harmony  witli  the  place  and  the  hour. 
Though  the  day  was  nearly  gone,  the  golden  light  still 
lingered  on  the  heights  above  us,  where  in  the  last  glow  of 
sunset  seemed  to  float  the  form  of  Him  who  once  walked 
among  these  hills.  Was  not  the  Master  "  passing  by  "  ? 
Does  he  not  love  to  reAdsit  the  scenes  dear  to  him  on  earth  ? 
May  he  not  often  return  to  the  spot  where  he  spent  the 
greater  part  of  his  mortal  life  ?  Perhaps  he  still  loves 
these  hoTU'S  when  the  last  light  of  day  is  fading  roimd  his 
eaiiy  home.  So  at  least  it  seemed  to  us,  whether  it  was 
faith  or  imagination  :  to  the  quickened  sense  he  was  very 
near  ;  it  was  as  if  we  could  see  him  dimly  in  the  t\\-ilight, 
nay,  as  if  he  who  came  to  his  discijiles  when  the  door  was 
shut,  and  said  "  Peace  be  unto  you,"  stood  within  the  door 
of  our  tent,  and  gave  his  peace  to  those  who,  though 
strangers  and  pHgiims,  were  yet  his  disciples.  Jesus  of 
Nazareth  was  passing  by. 


CHAPTEB  Xn. 

TO  MOUNT  CARMEL-IXCUKSIONS  OF  THE  BEDAWEEN- 
PROJECTED  RAILWAY  Oil  CANAL  IN  PALESTINE. 

In  the  preface  to  Kenilworth,  Walter  Scott  tells  how  he 
came  to  write  it.  The  idea  was  suggested  by  an  old  Eug- 
hsh  ballad,  which  he  heard  when  a  young  man.  "  The 
first  stanza  especially,"  he  says,  "  had  a  pecuHar  species  of 
enchantment  for  the  youthful  ear  of  the  author,  the  force 
of  which  is  not  even  now  entirely  spent."  This  we  can 
well  beheve  as  we  read  these  musical  lines  : 

"  The  dews  of  Summer  night  did  fall ; 
The  moon,  sweet  regent  of  the  sky, 
Silvered  the  walls  of  Cumnor  Hall, 
And  many  an  oak  that  grew  thereby." 

Repeating  these  lines  a  thousand  times,  he  finally 
wrote  this  romance  of  the  time  of  Elizabeth,  as  if  to 
reproduce  the  effect  of  the  moonlight  falling  on  castle 
walls,  and  silvering  the  ancient  oaks.  If  a  few  lines  may 
thus  set  in  motion  the  pen  of  a  great  writer,  much  more 
are  travellers,  who  are  like  ships  in  that  they  are  always 
afloat,  turned  about  with  "  the  very  small  hehn  "  of  a  slight 
association.  A  bit  of  eloquent  description,  whether  in 
poetry  or  prose,  haunts  the  mind  and  makes  one  travel  far 
to  place  himself  in  the  situation,  and  realize  the  effect,  so 
powerfully  described.     It  was  something  like  this  which 


"  TIIEKE    IS    NOTHING."  135 

made  at  least  one  member  of  our  party  -wish  to  tiu-n  aside 
from  the  direct  jooi'ney  tkrough  Palestine,  to  visit  Mount 
Carmel.  '\\Tien  Dean  Stanley  was  in  America,  lie  preached 
a  sermon  in  Stockbridge,  Mass.,  on  a  text  •which  certainly 
promised  little.  It  was  "  There  is  nothing !  " — the  exclama- 
tion of  the  sei-vant  whom  Elijah  sent  up  to  the  top  of  Mount 
Caimel  to  look  towards  the  Mediteri'anean,  to  see  if  there 
were  any  sign  of  rain,  and  who  retiuTied  again  and  again 
with  the  same  answer  :  "  There  is  nothing  !  "  At  fii'st  one 
would  think  there  could  be  nothing  to  a  sermon  fi'om  such 
a  text.  But  it  soon  appeared  that  out  of  "  nothing  "  the 
genius  of  such  a  preacher  could  di-aw  most  important  les- 
sons. I  can  see  now  the  slight  figiu'e,  with  that  intellectual 
countenance,  and  hear  his  voice  as  he  began  : 

In  the  story  of  Elijah  on  Mount  Carmel,  there  is  a  striking 
passage — made  to  some  of  us  yet  more  striking  by  the  music 
of  Mendelssohn,  in  which  it  has  been  enshrined  —  where  the 
young  lad  attendant  on  the  Prophet  ascends  the  highest  point 
of  the  long  ridge  of  the  mountain,  and  whilst  his  master  remains 
on  the  lower  level,  looks  out  over  the  wide  expanse  of  the  Medi- 
terranean Sea.  It  is  a  scene  of  which  every  step  can  still  be 
identified.  The  boy  gazes  in  the  hope  that  the  Prophet's  earnest 
prayer  may  bring  down  the  long-desired  rain.  The  sun  had  sunk 
into  the  western  sea.  But  after  the  sunset  there  followed  the 
long  white  glow  so  common  in  the  evenings  of  Eastern  countries. 
Seven  times  the  youthful  watcher  went  up  and  looked,  and  seven 
times  he  reported  "There  is  nothing."  The  sky  was  still  clear; 
the  sea  was  still  calm.  At  last  out  of  the  far  horizon  there  arose 
a  little  cloud,  the  first  that  for  days  and  months  had  passed  across 
the  heavens.  It  was  no  larger  than  an  outstretched  hand,  but  it 
grew  in  the  deepening  shades  of  evening,  and  quickly  the  whole 
sky  was  overcast,  and  the  forests  of  Carmel  shook  in  the  welcome 
sound  of  those  mighty  winds  which  in  Eastern  regions  precede  a 
coming  tempest.  The  cry  of  the  boy  from  his  mountain  watch 
had  hardly  been  uttered  when  the  storm  broke  upon  the  plain,  tlie 
rain  descended,  the  Kishon  swelled  and  burst  over  its  banks,  and 
the  nation  was  delivered  from  its  sufferings. 


136  THK    PLAIX    THINLY    INHABITED. 

This  eloquent  passage  remained  in  my  memory  till  1 
fount!  myself  in  Palestine,  and  raised  a  strong  desire,  as 
we  approached  Cai'mel,  to  visit  the  mountain  and  recall 
"  the  scene  of  which  every  step  can  still  be  identified,"  and 
look  out,  like  the  sei-vant  of  Elijah,  "  over  the  wide  expanse 
of  the  Mediterranean  Sea." 

The  day  smiled  on  our  pm-pose,  for  we  had  not  had  in 
all  our  journeys  a  more  exquisite  morning.  With  a  long 
ride  before  us,  we  were  in  the  saddle  at  six  o'clock.  To 
climb  up  out  of  the  basin  of  Nazareth,  we  wound  round 
the  steep  hill  in  the  rear  of  our  camp  which  we  had 
ascended  the  evening  before.  The  sun  had  just  risen  over 
the  mountains  of  Gilead,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Jordan, 
and  touched  the  forehead  of  Tabor,  and  as  we  rose  higher, 
it  shone  down  into  the  valley  below.  Descending  the  other 
slope  of  the  hill  to  the  plain  of  Esdraelon,  we  soon  had  a 
view  of  Haifa  and  Acre  in  the  distance,  on  the  shore  of  the 
Mediterranean.  It  is  perhaps  not  more  than  a  dozen  miles 
directly  across  to  the  foot  of  Carmel,  though  by  the  cir- 
cuitous route  we  had  to  take,  it  must  have  been  much 
farther.  The  road  was  wet  with  the  recent  rains,  but  the 
horses,  fi-esh  fi'om  a  day  of  rest,  j)ricked  up  their  steps,  and 
we  measured  off  the  distance  rapidly.  The  plain  is  not 
altogether  level,  but  rising  and  falUng,  with  here  and  there 
a  larger  swell  of  gi'ound,  on  which  is  the  usual  Eastern 
village — a  cluster  of  mud-huts,  no  better  than  Indian  wig- 
wams, with  the  smoke  pouring  out  of  the  door  ;  yet 
tlu-ough  the  smoke,  as  if  they  were  imps  of  darkness,  peer 
innumerable  heads  :  for  these  miserable  cabins  swarm  with 
men  and  women,  childi-en  and  dogs.  Once  only  in  the 
whole  distance  did  we  see  a  building  of  any  size,  and  that 
was  erected  as  a  khan  for  the  Circassians,  who  made  it  httle 
better  than  a  robbers'  castle.  Just  now  it  is  empty,  and 
looks  like  an  old  barrack  which  has  been  deseiied  and 


IXCTRSIONS    OF    THE    BKDAWKEX.  137 

g'one  to  ruin.  The  traveller  is  surprised  at  the  desolate 
appearance  of  the  country,  so  far  as  regai'ds  human  habita- 
tion. The  soil  is  rich,  and  if  the  plain  were  thoroughly 
cultivated,  as  it  would  be  in  England,  or  as  are  the  Low- 
lands of  Scotland,  or  the  reclaimed  marshes  of  Holland,  it 
would  support  the  Avhole  population  of  Palestine.  But  it 
sadly  lacks  the  presence  of  man  and  the  benefit  of  human 
indust^J^  The  villages  are  the  poorest  and  the  people  the 
most  wretched  in  the  countiy.  The  reason  is  not  far  to 
seek  :  it  is  the  insecurity  of  life  and  proiDerty.  If  one 
looks  on  the  map,  he  will  see  that  the  Plain  of  Esdi-aelon 
does  not  lie  four-square  in  the  heart  of  the  country,  but 
inins  across  it  from  northwest  to  southeast,  touching  the 
Mediterranean  on  one  side  and  the  valley  of  the  Jordan  on 
the  other.  The  smooth  descent  to  the  latter  opens  a  wide 
gate  for  the  entrance  of  the  Bedaween,  who  in  former 
years  came  in  by  thousands  with  their  flocks  and  herds. 
They  considered  the  plain  of  Esdi-aelon  as  their  pasture 
ground,  and  that  no  others  had  any  rights  which  they  were 
bound  to  respect.  Where  they  came,  it  was  hardly  possible 
for  others  to  live.  They  tiu'ned  the  cultivated  field  into  a 
desert,  since  their  hand  was  against  every  man,  and  every 
man's  hand  was  against  them.  Until  •u'ithin  a  few  years  it 
was  said  that  only  a  sixth  pai-t  of  the  soil  was  cultivated  at 
all.  Since  1870  it  is  claimed  that  the  protection  has  been 
somewhat  better.  Yet  I  do  not  see  the  signs  of  imjDrove- 
ment.  The  plain  indeed  overflows  with  rank  vegetation, 
but  there  is  httle  cultiu-e.  If  the  inrush  of  Bedaween  has 
been  less  than  in  former  years,  at  least  the  apprehension 
remains,  and  the  teiTor  has  the  effect  to  keep  the  land  des- 
olate. Out  of  the  villages  the  plain  is  uninhabited.  Here 
and  there  men  or  boys  may  be  seen  watching  a  few  sheep 
or  cattle,  but  otherwise  it  is  as  silent  and  solitary  as  the 
desert.     It  is  not  safe  for  any  one  to  travel  alone,  even 


138  THE    BROOK    KISHON. 

anned  :  indeed  arms  sometimes  but  increase  the  danger. 
As  we  came  near  a  village,  Floyd  pointed  out  a  spot  where 
only  four  years  since  a  young  Englishman,  the  son  of  a 
nobleman,  who  had  lived  in  the  country  long  enough  to 
feel  a  certain  degree  of  security,  was  attacked,  and  endeav- 
oring to  defend  himself  with  his  revolver,  was  overpowered 
and  killed,  and  his  body  cut  into  three  pieces !  Of  course 
the  heart  of  England  was  stirred  at  such  a  crime,  and  a 
man-of-war,  with  the  English  Consul  from  Jerusalem  on 
boai'd,  was  ordered  to  Acre  to  demand  satisfaction.  Sixty 
men  of  the  AoUage  were  arrested,  and  an  inquest  begun 
which  lasted  twenty-six  days,  as  the  result  of  which  three 
who  were  found  to  have  been  leaders  in  the  crime,  were 
sentenced  to  be  hanged.  Sentenced,  but  not  executed! 
They  were  confined  in  the  fortress  of  Acre,  where  they  still 
are,  unless  they  have  been  allowed  to  escape !  So  much 
for  Turkish  justice. 

Three  hours  of  riding  brought  us  to  the  Kishon,  which, 
like  many  things  in  the  East,  is  an  uncertain  quantity, 
being  now  a  brook  and  now  a  river.  Sometimes  it  is 
almost  diy  ;  but  fearing  lest  it  might  be  swollen  by  the 
recent  rains,  Floyd  made  anxious  inquiry,  as  we  ap- 
proached it,  if  it  was  fordable.  On  the  banks  we  found 
boys  watching  cattle,  which  were  wading  and  wallowing 
under  the  -^iUows  ;  and  a  man  was  sent  in  to  see  if  the 
water  was  too  deep.  Following  him,  we  rode  in  and 
waded  across.  It  is  a  narrow  stream,  and  we  can  hardly 
understand  how  it  could  have  swept  away  the  host  of 
Sisera.  But  in  these  Eastern  countries  the  elements,  like 
the  people,  are  treacherous  ;  and  when  the  rains  descend, 
the  brook  becomes  a  flood,  rushing  through  the  plain  like 
a  mountain  torrent,  and  might  easily  sweep  away  an  army. 

And  now  we  begin  to  ascend,  and  from  gentle  slopes 
soon  come  to  the  wooded  sides  of  Carmel,  which  is  cele- 


ELIJAU'S    PLACE    OF    SACRIFICE.  139 

brated  for  its  flora.*  The  springs  which  nin  among  the 
hills  keep  it  always  fresh  and  green.  The  contrast  with 
the  barren  hills  over  which  we  had  passed  in  other  pai-ts 
of  Palestine  and  on  the  deseii;,  gave  it  a  peciihar  beauty. 
After  being  so  long  among  the  bald  peaks  of  the  Peninsula 
of  Sinai,  it  was  a  relief  to  the  eye  to  come  into  something 
like  an  American  forest.  The  sides  of  the  mountain  are 
covered  with  trees.  Isaiah,  who  was  prophet  and  poet  in 
one,  couples  "  the  excellency  of  Carmel  and  Sharon  "  with 
"the  glory  of  Lebanon."  Its  forest  growths  attracted  the 
priests  of  Baal,  who  celebrated  their  idolatrous  worship  in 
its  sacred  groves.  An  hour's  ride  up  the  ascent  brought 
us  to  a  place  where  is  a  fountain  weUiug  up  among  the 
rocks,  at  the  foot  of  a  ledge  perhaps  twenty  feet  high. 
Mounting  this  ledge,  we  come  upon  a  broad  natural 
teiTace,  which  is  supposed  to  be  the  scene  of  the  memora- 
ble contest  of  Elijah  with  the  prophets  of  Baal,  as  the  si:>ace 
is  ample  for  thousands  to  gather  round  the  altars,  while 
the  water  to  pour  into  the  trenches  could  be  brought  from 
the  fountain  below.  "With  these  accessories  before  the  eye, 
it  is  easy  to  picture  the  scene.  The  Scriptures  hardly  con- 
tain anything  more  dramatic  than  the  description  of  a 
contest  which  ended  in  a  fearful  tragedy.  The  people 
were  probably  gathered  by  tens  of  thousands,  for  EUjah 
had  bidden  Ahab  "  send  and  gather  all  Israel  unto  Mount 
Carmel."     The   multitude   may  have   covered  the   whole 

*  My  friend 'and  companion  in  travel,  Dr.  Adams,  wlio  is  always 
observant  of  trees  and  flowers,  notes  in  his  journal  a  few  of  those 
which  here  caught  his  eye :  "Going  up  Carmel  saw  wild  hollyhocks 
large  and  fine;  three  varieties  of  clover  (large  red,  large  white, 
small  red  blossoms) ;  white  and  red  rock-roses :  oaks  and  haw- 
thorns ;  and  mock-oi'ange  trees  (or  syringas)  from  ten  to  twenty 
feet  high,  in  full  blossom  perfuming  the  air."  On  the  very  top  of 
the  mountain  I  observed  the  same  profusion  of  wild  flowers  and 
blossoming  trees,  whose  fragrance  was  like  a  breath  of  home. 


140        c'uNTKsr  WITH  Till':  pkie.<ts  ok  baai.. 

mountain  side,  and  stretched  far  out  into  the  plain  below. 
But  the  scene  of  the  conflict  was  near  the  crest  of  the 
mountain,  on  the  teiTace,  where  were  assembled  the  leaders 
of  the  peojjle,  while  in  the  foreground  appeared  hundi'eds 
of  the  jn-iests  of  Baal.  Their  altars  are  built  and  their 
prayers  begin,  but  as  no  efiect  is  produced,  they  soon  work 
themselves  into  a  state  of  excitement — an  excitement  which 
passes  into  fury  and  frenzy.  They  shout  like  howling 
dervishes,  making  the  forest  echo  with  their  cries,  "  O 
Baal,  hear  us  !  "  This  they  re|)eat  fi-om  morning  to  noon, 
and  after  noon,  growing  more  wild  and  frantic,  leaping 
upon  the  altar  and  cutting  themselves  with  knives  till  the 
blood  gushes  out  upon  them,  but  at  last  sink  down  from 
utter  exhaustion,  obHged  to  confess  their  failure,  and  only 
hoping  that  the  prophet  of  the  Lord  may  fail  also. 

Then  Elijah  stood  forth,  one  man,  alone,  against  the 
hundreds  of  the  prophets  of  Baal,  and  said  unto  all  the 
people.  Come  near  unto  me  !  With  a  solemn  deliberation 
he  repairs  the  altar  of  the  Lord  that  was  broken  do-SNTi, 
and  digs  a  trench  and  bids  them  pour  barrels  of  water  on 
the  sacrifice,  and  agaia  bids  them  do  it  the  second  time, 
and  do  it  the  third  time. 

"  Then  at  the  time  of  the  evening  sacrifice  EHjah  came 
near  and  said.  Lord  God  of  Abraham,  of  Isaac,  and  of 
Israel,  Let  it  be  known  this  day  that  thou  art  God  iu 
Israel,  and  that  I  am  thy  servant,  and  that  I  have  done  aU 
these  things  according  to  thy  word."  "  Then  the  fire  of 
the  Lord  fell  and  consumed  the  burnt  sacrifice  and  the 
wood  and  the  stones  and  the  dust,  and  licked  up  the  water 
that  was  in  the  trench." 

The  victory  was  complete,  and  the  retribution  came. 
In  one  of  those  revulsions  of  feeling  that  follow  a  discov- 
ered deception,  the  people  resj^onded  quickly  to  the  com- 
mand to  "  seize  the  prophets  of  Baal,  not  to  let  one  of 


ON    THE    TOP    OF    CARMEL.  141 

them  escape,"  and  they  were  taken  down  tlie  mountain, 
and  slain  on  the  banks  of  the  Kishon,  which  rolled  red 
with  their  blood  to  the  sea. 

But  we  are  not  yet  quite  at  the  summit  of  Carmel ; 
there  is  still  a  cliff  some  three  hundred  feet  higher.  As 
we  climb  to  the  top  there  bursts  upon  us  a  view  of  moun- 
tain and  sea  close  to  each  other,  not  unlike  that  fi'om  the 
Corniche  road  in  the  South  of  France,  or  from  Amalfi  in 
Italy.  The  ridge  of  Carmel  is  about  eighteen  miles  long, 
on  either  side  of  which  the  deep  green  of  the  forest  slopes 
down  to  the  plain — on  one  side  to  the  Plain  of  Esdraelon, 
and  on  the  other  to  the  Plain  of  Sharon,  which  coming  up 
from  the  South  along  the  coast,  here  grows  narrower  and 
nan'ower  till  it  is  lost  between  the  mountain  and  the  sea. 
Carmel  ends  abniptly  with  a  sharjD  descent.  This  head- 
land jutting  out  into  the  deep  is  the  most  striking  object 
seen  by  the  yoyager  along  the  S;\Tian  coast.  On  the 
extreme  point,  nearly  five  hundred  feet  above  the  sea, 
stands  the  famous  monastery  which  has  given  name  to  the 
order  of  Barefooted  Carmelites  so  well  kno^\Ti  thi'ough- 
out  Europe — an  order  to  which  Father  Hyacinthe  once 
belonged.  From  this  commanding  elevation  one  may  look 
North,  South,  and  West,  and  see  in  each  direction  the 
illimitable  sea.  Ljing  almost  at  our  feet,  like  the  Bay  of 
Salerno  as  seen  from  the  heights  of  the  Appenines,  is  the 
Bay  of  Acre,  over  which  stiU  keejDS  guard  that  ancient 
fortress,  before  which  Napoleon  met  with  a  defeat  which 
stopped  his  conquest  of  Syria  and  his  march  upon  Con- 
stantinople.* 

*  While  I  was  looking  seaward,  Dr.  Adams  had  been  look- 
ing back  over  the  plain,  and  thus  pictures  the  wonderful  scene 
in  that  direction:  "We  go  to  the  edge  of  a  forty-foot  cliff  of 
pumice  rock.  Dr.  Field  reads  the  Scripture  [1  Kings  xviii.]. 
Looking  off  over  the  plain,  we  see  all  the  sites  of  the  story. 


142         LOOKING  FOR  THE  CLOUD  FROM  THK  SKA. 

As  the  point  we  bad  now  reached  is  the  highest  of  the 
mountain,  tradition  has  natvirally  fixed  upon  it  as  the  scene 
of  Elijah's  victory,  and  there  is  a  small  low  building  of 
stone  covering  a  bare  rock,  which  is  claimed  to  have  been 
the  veiy  rock  of  sacrifice.  But  a  careful  comparison  of 
sites  inclines  to  the  broader  space  below.  It  is,  however, 
not  improbable  that  this  higher  peak  was  the  watch-tower 
from  which  Elijah's  servant  looked  for  the  cloud  from  the 
sea.  After  the  projjhets  of  Baal  had  been  slain  at  the 
brook  Kishon,  it  is  said  that  "Elijah  went  up  to  the  top  of 
Carmel "  ;  but  it  may  be  only  in  a  general  sense,  for  he 
sent  his  servant  up  to  a  point  still  higher,  so  that  it  seems 
probable  that  he  renewed  his  prayer  on  the  very  spot 
where  he  had  already  been  answered  by  fire  from  heaven. 
His  prayer  was  perhaps  a  silent  one,  for  we  are  told  only 
that  "he  cast  himself  upon  the  earth  and  put  his  face 
between  his  knees."  But  voiceless  though  it  was,  he  did 
not  doubt  that  the  answer  woidd  come,  for  he  bade  his 
servant  look  for  its  coming  :  "  Go  up  now,  look  toward  the 
sea !  "  Nor  did  his  faith  faU,  though  again  and  again  the 
servant  reported  "There  is  nothing,"  for  at  the  seventh 
time,  he  answered  "Behold,  there  ariseth  a  httle  cloud 
out  of  the  sea,  like  a  man's  hand."  And  soon  "  the  heaven 
was  black  with  clouds  and  wind,  and  there  was  a  great 
rain." 

Such  is  the  story  of  the  prophet  that  hangs  about  the 
ridge  of  Carmel,  and  gives  it  an  interest  after  the  lapse  of 
nearly  thirty  centuries.  What  strange  and  terrible  power 
had  these  men,  who  dwelt  in  mountains  and  caves,  and 
came  out  of  their  solitude  to  stand  before  kings  and  send 

with  Jezrecl  in  the  distance;  grass  greens  in  various  shades, 
earth  browns  and  blacks,  the  winding  thread  of  the  Kishon ;  on 
the  Galilean  hills  tree  greens  and  limestone  grays ;  far  away  pur- 
ples and  blues,  and  the  snows  of  Hermon." 


MEETING    THE    BEDAWEEN.  143 

teri'or  into  palaces!  The  prophets  are  dead,  but  their 
memory  lingers  in  the  haunted  air  ;  something  of  their 
fierce  spirit  seems  to  have  entered  into  the  very  eagles  that 
still  soar  and  scream  above  the  heights  of  Carmel,  sending 
out  their  wild  message  to  mountain  and  sea. 

As  we  rode  do-uTi  Mount  Carmel,  the  afternoon  sun 
behind  us  shone  across  Esdraelon,  bringing  out  exerj 
motmd  and  knoll  of  that  most  beautifvd  plain.  Some  of 
the  broader  elevations  are  studded  with  noble  trees,  mak- 
ing a  landscape  not  unlike  the  parks  of  England  ;  and  one 
looks  to  see  castle  walls  behind  the  ancient  oaks,  or  some- 
thing having  the  charm  of  an  English  village  under  their 
shade.  Such  there  might  be,  if  there  were  only  the  order 
and  security  of  England.  The  plain  itseK  is  nature's  para- 
dise. It  is  a  sea  of  verdiu'e  ;  for,  cultivated  or  not,  whether 
in  gardens  or  overgi'own  with  weeds,  still  the  rank  luxuiiant 
growth  gives  it  the  appearance  of  one  of  our  Western 
prairies,  and  suggests  what  it  might  become  with  proper 
cultivation.  But  there  cannot  be  good  cultivation  without 
good  government.  Just  now  I  was  riding  by  the  side  of 
Floyd,  when  we  met  a  couple  of  "  gentlemen,"  splendidly 
mounted  and  armed.  We  gave  them  our  salaam,  which 
they  retiuTied.  But  Floyd  smiled  as  he  said  "  If  you  were 
alone,  instead  of  being  with  a  party,  these  knights  of  the 
road  would  pay  you  closer  attention.  They  would  give 
you  the  honor  of  a  personal  intei-^dew."  This  is  the  ciu'se 
of  the  country- ;  no  man  is  safe  either  on  the  road  or  in  his 
dwelling  :  his  home  is  not  his  castle.  The  poor  peasant 
has  no  motive  to  cultivate  a  garden  or  plant  a  tree,  for  the 
moment  that  he  makes  his  little  place  attractive,  it  is  sure 
to  become  the  prey  of  the  spoiler. 

As  if  it  were  not  enough  that  this  beautiful  Plain  should 
be  overrun  by  hordes  of  Bedaween,  the  Sultan  has  emptied 
upon  it  a  body  of  Circassians.     At  the  close  of  the  late  wai* 


144  Tin-:  (iRCASsrANS  and  bedaween. 

there  were  hordes  of  iiTegular  troops — Koords,  Bashi- 
bazouks  and  Circassians — a  homble  set  of  cut-thi'oats,  use- 
less in  war,  as  they  were  subject  to  no  discipline,  and  only 
intent  on  piUage — whom  it  was  necessary  to  get  rid  of,  and 
whom  the  government  wished  to  send  as  far  away  as  possi- 
ble. Some  of  them  were  transported  into  the  interior  of 
Asia  Minor.  Wherever  they  came  they  were  a  pest  to 
every  village,  as  they  were  a  set  of  thieves  and  robbers.  A 
large  detachment  of  these  precious  scoundi-els  were  landed 
on  the  Coast  of  Spna  and  encamped  on  the  Plain  of  Esdrae- 
lon,  to  be  the  terror  of  their  neighbors. 

Thus  the  land  is  doomed  to  desolation,  for  nothing  can 
stand  against  such  a  state  of  inseciuity.  How  long  would 
the  farmers  of  Illinois  plant  their  magnificent  prairies  if 
there  were  roving  bands  of  Indians,  or  of  "  bushwhackers," 
£00  jjowerful  to  be  resisted,  that  would  come  in  as  soon  as 
the  harvest  was  ripe  to  take  whatever  was  best — to  turn 
theii*  herds  of  horses  and  cattle  into  the  rich  pastvires,  stay- 
ing for  weeks  or  months  and  leaving  only  when  the  land 
was  swept  as  a  praii'ie  is  swept  by  fire  ? 

Whenever  we  meet,  as  we  often  do,  these  roving  Beda- 
ween,  it  renews  our  conversation  in  regard  to  the  state  of  a 
countiy  which  is  thus  given  over  to  brigandage. 

Floyd  has  lived  many  years  in  Palestine,  and  travelling 
in  every  pari  of  it,  he  has  become  well  acquainted  with  the 
dijBferent  tribes  that  inhabit  the  country  across  the  Jordan, 
and  with  their  sheikhs,  who  converse  T\dth  him  with  the 
greatest  fi'eedom.  Sitting  before  theii'  camp-fires,  they  ai-e 
in  a  confidential  mood,  and  as  they  Hke  to  unbosom  them- 
selves to  an  admiring  Hstener,  they  do  not  hesitate  to  boast 
of  their  exploits.  It  is  a  feather  in  the  cap  of  a  sheikh  to 
be  a  bold  marauder.  He  who  can  plan  a  raid  upon  his 
neighbors,  and  carry  it  out  with  secrecy  and  despatch,  is  a 
great  man  in  his  tribe.     And  if  in  executing  some  feat  of 


KILLING  A  MAX    FOR  A  HORSE.  145 

stratep^y,  be  and  his  "  merry  men  "  come  to  battle  and  to 
blood,  tliis  gives  increased  zest  to  their  wild  and  lawless 
life.  The  sheikh  of  a  powerful  tribe  beyond  the  Jordan 
has  a  daughter  who  is  famed  for  her  beauty  ;  but  the 
sheikh  gives  it  to  be  understood  that  no  young  Arabian 
"  blood  "  must  look  for  her  hand  who  has  not  killed  a  hun- 
dred men !  A\Tiat  a  noble  object  to  fire  a  young  Arab's 
ambition !  This,  of  course,  must  be  in  pitched  battle  :  for 
the  Ai'abs  do  not  Hke  assassination.  Killing,  to  be  a  matter 
of  jDride,  must  be  done  on  a  large  scale. 

In  pursuing  theii-  knightly  calling,  they  are  sometimes 
obliged  to  kill  those  whom  they  rob.  They  would  rather 
not  do  this  :  for  they  do  not  Uke  to  shed  blood,  having  a 
wholesome  fear  of  the  blood  feud.  But  they  have  no  moral 
scruple  about  it.  Sometimes  when  stem  necessity  compels 
a  murder,  one  may  feel  a  slight  twinge  of  remorse.  "  One 
day,"  said  a  sheikh  to  Floyd,  "as  I  was  riding  across  a 
plain,  I  saw  coming  towards  me  a  man  mounted  on  the 
most  beautiful  mare  I  had  ever  seen  [the  Arabian  mares 
are  especially  prized]  ;  her  form  was  perfect  ;  there  was 
such  grace  and  spirit  in  every  step,  that  I  tiu'ned  to  look 
at  her  with  admiration,  when  an  impulse  seized  me  which  I 
could  not  resist.  It  was  the  work  of  an  instant.  I  dashed 
at  the  rider,  and  ran  him  tlu'ough  with  my  spear.  He 
rolled  oflf,  but  gave  me  one  look  that  I  could  never  forget. 
I  should  have  thought  nothing  of  the  act  but  for  that  last 
look  :  but  that  has  haunted  me  ever  since.  It  foUows  me 
to  my  tent,  and  when  I  awake  in  the  night,  I  see  those  eyes 
staring  at  me  with  a  look  of  reproach.  But,"  he  always 
adds,  "  tolio  could  help  it  for  such  a  mare  !  " 

This  wild  element  is  the  most  difficult  one  to  manage 
in  the  whole  Empu-e.  Some  indeed  think  it  impossible  to 
control  it.  The  Bedaween  have  roamed  the  desert  for 
thousands  of  years  unsubdued,  and   may  still  roam   for 


146      HOW  IBliAIIIM   PASHA  RULED  THE  COUNTRY. 

tliousancls  of  yeai's  to  come.  They  snap  their  fingers  at  n 
power  as  far  off  as  Constantinojile,  and  speak  with  the 
utmost  contempt  of  the  Tm-ks.  Floyd  told  me  how  a 
sheikh  shook  his  fist  and  fairly  gnashed  his  teeth  at  the 
mention  of  the  Sultan.  "He  wished  he  had  the  Sviltan 
here,"  intimating  by  gestvu-e  as  well  as  by  words  that  he 
would  nin  his  spear  through  the  sacred  body  of  the 
Padisha.  Such  refractory  sheikhs  are  not  easily  made 
into  faithful  and  obedient  subjects  ;  and  it  can  hardly  be 
wondered  at  if  the  Grand  Vizier,  sitting  on  his  legs,  and 
smoking  his  chibouque,  and  not  wishing  to  be  disturbed, 
gives  it  up  as  a  bad  job. 

But  because  the  Turks  cannot  subdue  these  wild  tribes 
of  the  desert,  it  does  not  follow  that  they  cannot  be  subdu- 
ed by  any  power.  The  best  proof  that  they  can  be,  is  that 
theij  have  been.  It  is  not  so  long  ago  that  the  present  gen- 
eration should  forget  that  there  was  a  time  when  Bn-ahim 
Pasha  invaded  Palestine  and  Syria.  For  ten  years  he  was 
master  of  the  countiy,  and  he  governed  it.  The  Ai'abs  soon 
found  that  they  had  a  master.  A  few  prompt  executions, 
a  few  sheikhs  swung  in  aii',  and  a  few  callages  destroyed, 
and  the  idea  was  fairly  driven  into  their  rebellious  heads, 
that  they  were  deahng  with  a  ruler  who  could  not  be 
trifled  with,  "In  those  days,"  said  Dr.  Van  Dyck  of  Beirut, 
"  you  did  not  need  a  guard  if  you  stepped  out  of  doors,  or 
passed  from  village  to  village  ;  you  could  travel  in  safety 
from  one  end  of  the  land  to  the  other." 

This  was  the  first  time  in  centm*ies  that  Syria  had  been 
governed.  But  such  a  state  of  things  was  too  blissful  to 
last.  England  and  France,  true  to  their  policy  of  uphold- 
ing Turkey,  and  fearful  lest  the  Egj-ptian  army  should 
march  on  Constantinople,  must  interfere,  and  in  another 
siege  of  Acre  stopped  Bjrahim  Pasha  as  Sii'  Sidney  Smith 
had  stopped  Napoleon.    Ibrahim  was  compelled  to  give  up 


PROJECTKD    RAILWAY    IX    PALKSTINE.  147 

his  hold  on  Sjoia  and  retreat  to  Egypt,  and  at  once  the 
old  anarchy  came  back  again,  and  still  continues,  with  no 
hope  of  being  destroyed  till  some  other  power  than  Turkey 
shaU  become  master  of  the  country,  whether  it  obtain  it  by 
war  or  peace,  by  conquest  or  by  civihzation. 

"  Civihzation  ?  "  What  civilization  can  there  be  amid 
so  much  barbarism  ?  At  present  the  only  sign  of  civiliza- 
tion is  the  httle  wii-e  which  runs  along  the  line  of  telegraph 
poles.  But  that  slender  wire  is  the  nerve  that  Hnks  thi-ee 
continents  together.  Starting  from  Cairo,  and  crossing  the 
desert  to  Jaffa  and  Jenisalem,  it  unites  Asia  to  Africa  ;  and 
then  circling  round  the  head  of  the  Mediten-anean,  reaches 
Constantinople,  and  there  touches  the  great  system  of 
communication  which  spreads  over  Europe.  This  wire 
therefore  is  not  so  slight  a  thing  as  it  seems  :  it  is  the  fore- 
runner of  civihzation — a  sign  of  greater  things  which  are 
to  follow. 

Of  one  of  these  there  is  a  suggestion  already  in  the  pro- 
posed construction  of  "  the  first  railway  in  Palestine " ! 
For  a  year  past  there  have  been  rumors  of  a  negotiation 
on  the  part  of  bankers  in  Beunit,  probably  with  the  aid  of 
bankers  in  Constantinople,  as  the  result  of  which  it  is 
finally  announced  that  the  Sultan — in  consideration  of  a 
handsome  royalty,  equivalent  to  a  large  land  tax — has 
leased  to  them  the  Plain  of  Esdraelon,  with  the  condition 
that  he  shall  protect  it  fi'om  the  incursions  of  the  Beda- 
ween  ;  and  that,  as  a  part  of  the  agreement,  they  receive  a 
concession  for  a  railway.  Accordingly  they  propose  to 
turn  their  large  acqmsition  to  account  by  the  constiiiction 
of  a  railway  from  Acre  to  Damascus,  which  would  strike 
directly  across  the  Plain  of  Esdraelon.  It  is  suggested 
that  there  might  be  a  station  for  Nazareth  (!),  though  it 
woidd  pass  twelve  miles  south  of  the  town,  which  might  be 
approached  still  nearer  by  a  branch  road  to  the  foot  of  the 


148  PROJECTED    RAILWAY    T\    PALESTINE. 

Galilean  Hills  ;  while  the  main  line,  descending  the  valley 
of  Jezreel,  wovdd  "  pass  over  Jordan,"  near  an  old  Roman 
bridge,  part  of  which  is  still  standing  and  in  use.  IVIr. 
Laurence  Oliphant,  an  authority  in  all  matters  relating  to 
the  East,  wi-iting  fi-om  Haifa,  says  :  "  Near  this  ancient 
Boman  bridge  of  three  arches,  which  is  used  to  this  day 
by  the  caravans  of  camels  which  bring  the  produce  of  the 
Hauran  to  the  coast,  the  new  railway  bridge  will  cross  the 
Jordan,  probably  the  only  one  in  the  world  which  will  have 
for  its  neighbor  an  actual  bridge  in  use  which  was  built  by 
the  Romans — thus,  in  this  new,  semi-barbarous  country, 
bringing  into  close  contact  an  ancient  and  a  modern  civil- 
ization." From  the  point  of  crossing  the  Jordan,  the  rail- 
way would  keej)  along  its  bank  till  it  diverged  farther  to 
the  East  to  skiri  the  hills  that  rise  on  the  shore  of  the  Sea 
of  Galilee.  In  its  route  to  Damascus,  it  would  traverse 
the  Hauran,  one  of  the  richest  agricvdtural  regions  in  the 
East,  the  produce  of  which,  no  longer  borne  on  the  backs 
of  camels,  could  now  be  carried,  not  only  more  swiftly,  but 
in  immensely  greater  bulk  [one  freight  train  would  trans- 
port more  than  a  dozen  caravans]  to  the  Mediterranean. 

This  would  be  indeed  a  commercial  revolution  in  the 
Holy  Land.  But  that  is  not  the  end.  StOl  grander  pro- 
jects have  been  suggested,  such  as  that  of  a  canal  which 
should  rival  the  Suez  Canal,  or  of  a  longer  railroad,  which 
should  furnish  another  route  to  India  besides  that  through 
Egypt.  The  late  war  awakened  England  to  the  absolute 
necessity,  in  order  to  preserve  her  Indian  Empii'e,  of  a 
means  of  communication  with  it  which  cannot  be  inter- 
rupted or  destroyed.  While  it  is  j^roposed  to  construct  a 
second  Suez  Canal,  the  question  is  asked  if  there  ma}"^  not 
be  another  water-way  fi-om  the  Mediterranean  to  the  Red 
Sea  ;  and  engineers  searching  along  the  coast  of  Sjnria 
have  suggested  that  it  would  be  possible  to  make  another 


A  CANAL   DOWN    THE   JORDAN  VALLEY.  149 

Port  Said  at  Haifa,  just  above  the  head  of  Mount  Cannel, 
from  which  a  canal  might  be  carried  across  the  Plain  of 
Esdi'aelon  to  the  Jordan,  and  down  its  valley  to  the  Dead 
Sea,  fi'om  which  a  canal  could  be  cut  across  the  desert  to 
Akaba,  where  it  would  strike  the  other  arm  of  the  Red  Sea 
from  that  reached  by  the  Suez  Canal. 

Such  a  hue  it  is  easy  to  di'aw  on  the  map,  but  to  the 
execution  of  the  project  there  is  one  great  natural  diffi- 
culty, in  the  depression  of  the  Dead  Sea,  which  is  thu-teen 
huncU'cd  feet  below  the  level  of  the  Mediterranean.  The 
same  difficulty  would  not  be  experienced  in  constnicting 
a  railroad,  which,  if  not  as  effective  for  commerce,  woiild 
answer  equally  weU  for  subduing  and  civilizing  the  coun- 
try. Before  the  Bedaween  can  be  civihzed  they  must  be 
governed  ;  and  to  be  governed  they  must  be  subdued  ; 
and  to  be  subdued  they  must  be  reached.  The  first  thing 
is  to  get  at  them.  An  army  cannot  be  transported  across 
the  desert  on  camels.  The  Arabs  would  fly  faster  than  the 
ai'my  could  follow,  only  to  return  as  soon  as  it  was  gone. 
But  with  a  railroad  reaching  to  the  Gulf  of  Akaba,  troops 
could  easily  be  transported  to  within  striking  distance  of 
the  most  powerfiil  tribes.  As  the  Pacific  raih-oads  are 
settling  the  Indian  question,  so  raih'oads  across  the  desei-t 
may  yet  settle  the  Arab  question. 

But  the  project  of  a  canal  is  the  more  captivating  to 
the  imagination,  and  it  is  hard  to  say  to  modem  engineers 
that  amiihing  is  impossible.  This  is  an  age  of  the  world 
when  the  wildest  anticipations  of  the  past  are  exceeded  by 
the  reahties  of  the  present,  and  when  it  is  but  in  the  nat- 
ural course  of  things,  that  young  men  should  dream 
dreams  and  old  men  should  see  "v-isions.  It  would  seem 
indeed  like  a  di-eam  of  prophecy  fulfilled,  if  we  could  see 
the  ships  of  modern  commerce  gathering  on  that  coast 
from  which  the  ancient  Phenicians  carried  commerce  and 


150  CAXAL    TO    TITE    r.UI>F    OF    AKAHA. 

civilization  to  Greece  and  Italy  and  Spain  ;  and  passing 
under  the  shadow  of  Carmel,  enter  the  calm  waters  of  an 
artificial  river,  and  unfold  theii*  sails,  the  white  wings  of 
peace,  over  a  plain  which  has  been  for  ages  the  battle- 
field of  nations  ;  then  dropping  slowly  down  into  the 
Valley  of  the  Jordan,  and  crossing  the  Plain  of  Jericho, 
(from  which,  but  for  the  depression,  the  voyager  might  see 
the  domes  and  towers  of  Jerusalem,)  pass  through  the 
Dead  Sea,  under  the  shadow  of  the  mountains  of  Moab, 
and  over  the  buried  cities  of  the  Plain,  without  disturbing 
the  dead  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  ;  and  moving  silently  as 
"  painted  ships  upon  a  painted  ocean,"  across  the  solemn 
stillness  of  the  desert,  come  at  last  to  Akaba,  and  make  a 
port  of  the  ancient  Ezion-geber,  fi-om  which  sailed  th^ 
fleets  of  Solomon !  ^Tiat  a  dream !  Yet  this  may  be,  for 
things  more  wonderful  have  been.  By  some  such  means 
perhaps  the  Eastern  question  is  to  be  solved.  May  we  not 
at  least  hope  for  it,  and  look  for  it  ?  Is  it  presumption  to 
pray  that  this  generation  may  not  pass  away  until  this 
dream  shall  be  fulfilled  ? 


CHAPTER  Xm. 

TO    TIBEKIAS THE   SERMON    ON    THE    MOUNT  :     IS    IT 

PHILOSOPHY,  OR   GENIUS,  OR    DIVINITY? 

It  was  Tuesday  morning  when  we  struck  our  tents  at 
Nazareth,  where  we  had  been  camped  since  Saturday.  In 
that  time  a  place  becomes  familiar,  and  we  have  a  home 
feeling  about  it  that  makes  us  leave  it  with  regret.  It  was 
with  a  tender  feeHng  that  we  turned  to  look  for  the  last 
time  at  the  peaceful  vaUey  where  our  Lord  was  a  child  ; 
where  he  hved  with  his  virgin  mother.  But  the  scene,  like 
childhood  itself,  must  be  left  behind,  that  we  may  pass  on 
to  other  scenes  connected  not  with  the  childhood,  but  with 
the  manhood,  of  him  who  is  the  Master  of  us  aU. 

The  hiU.  up  which  we  were  now  riding  was  the  same 
which  we  climbed  yesterday  ;  but  as  we  passed  over  its 
shoulder,  instead  of  turning  westward  towards  Mount  Car- 
mel,  we  kept  northeast  in  the  direction  of  the  Lake  of 
GaHlee,  and  soon  came  to  places  associated  with  the  Old 
Testament  and  the  New.  Here  on  our  left,  perched  on  a 
high,  steep  hill,  was  the  ancient  Gath  Hepher,  the  birth- 
place of  the  prophet  Jonah  ;  and  next  we  rode  into  a  little 
viUage,  which  Floyd  announced  with  a  loud  voice  to  be 
Cana  of  Galilee.  As  usual  with  these  villages,  it  is  clus- 
tered about  a  fountain.     "And  this  is  the  very  fountain 


152  CAXA    OF    GALIT,EE. 

from  which  the  water  was  taken  that  was  tiu'ned  into 
wine  !  "  This  was  so  positive  that  it  seemed  as  if  it  must 
be  authentic,  and  I  spraiij^  from  my  horse,  and  stooping 
down,  plunged  mj  face  into  the  brimming  pool,  and  took 
a  long  draught.  Some  maidens,  who  had  come  to  fill  their 
pitchers  -n-ith  water,  were  "  sitting  on  the  well,"  and  smiled, 
as  I  thought,  at  my  enthusiasm  ;  but  Floyd  said  they  were 
laughing  at  the  cut  of  my  whiskers,  for  which  I  do  not 
blame  them  :  for  there  must  be  something  very  unimpos- 
ing,  not  to  say  ridicvdous,  in  our  dose-cropped  hair  to 
those  accustomed  to  see  the  human  countenance  invested 
with  dignity,  and  even  made  venerable,  by  the  Rowing 
Oriental  beard. 

A.fter  the  warmth  with  which  I  hailed  this  sacred  spot, 
it  was  a  little  chilling  to  be  told  that  it  was  not  without  a 
rival  ;  that  there  was  another  village  of  the  same  name  not 
far  away,  which  Robinson  and  other  learned  investigators 
believed  to  be  the  true  Cana  of  Galilee.  But  I  was  not 
willing  to  give  it  up,  for  had  I  not  been  to  the  very  house 
where  the  mamage  feast  was  celebrated,  and  seen  the  very 
"  water-pots  "  (huge  earthen  jars)  in  which  the  water  stood 
which  was  converted  into  wine  ?  It  is  not  to  be  supposed 
that  this  little  village  would  willingly  siUTender  its  only 
title  to  fame.  The  tradition  is  its  capital.  Accordingly, 
there  is  a  Greek  priest  on  hand,  gracious  and  smiling, 
(whether  at  the  credulity  of  pilgrims  or  at  the  money  he 
receives,)  who  unlocks  the  door,  and  shows  the  interior, 
with  as  little  question  of  its  genuineness  as  does  the 
custodian  of  Independence  Hall,  who  shows  the  original 
Declaration,  with  its  immortal  signatures. 

But  whether  the  site  of  Cana  can  be  identified  or  not, 
this  at  least  is  certain,  that  we  are  in  Galilee,  the  scene  of 
oui*  Lord's  ministry,  at  the  beginning  of  which,  "  when 
John  was  cast  into  prison,  he  departed  into  Galilee,  and 


MOUNT    OF   THE    BR ATITL'DES.  15:3 

leaving  Nazareth  came  and  dwelt  in  Capernaum,  which  is 
by  the  sea,  in  the  borders  of  Zebulon  and  Naphtali."  In 
going  from  Nazareth  to  Capernaum,  he  must  have  crossed 
these  veiy  hills  and  passed  through  these  very  valleys,  all 
of  which  are  hallowed  by  association  with  him.  These 
associations  gave  a  charm  to  that  morning's  ride,  and  when 
it  came  to  the  hour  of  noon,  and  we  halted  in  the  shade 
for  o\ir  midday  rest,  I  sat  down  at  the  foot  of  a  tree  and 
took  out  my  Bible,  and  read  chapter  after  chapter  of  the 
Gospel  naiTative.  How  real  it  all  seems  when  one  has  the 
very  landscape  in  his  eye,  as  a  background  of  the  sacred 
story  ! 

But  now  we  are  coming  to  a  spot  which  makes  us  pause 
and  linger.  It  was  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  that  we 
were  riding  across  an  upland  at  the  slow  and  even  pace 
into  which  travellers  are  apt  to  drop,  when  Floyd  bounded 
ahead,  and  dashed  up  the  side  of  a  hill,  which  rises  out  of 
the  plain.  We  followed,  and  when  we  had  reined  up 
beside  him,  he  said  "  This  is  the  Mount  of  the  Beatitudes! 
Here  Chiist  deUvered  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount ! "  Its 
identity  rests  upon  tradition,  but  in  this  case  tradition  is 
so  supported  by  natural  probability,  that  cautious  investi- 
gators accept  it  as  genuine.  I  dismounted  with  the  feeling 
that  I  ought  to  take  my  shoes  off  my  feet :  for  this  was 
holy  ground.  The  mount  itself  is  not  indeed  imposing. 
At  fii'st  I  was  disappointed,  as  it  seemed  wanting  in 
majesty.  A  few  weeks  before  I  had  stood  upon  Mount 
^inai,  from  which  the  Law  was  given  amid  thtmderings  and 
Hghtnings  ;  but  here  the  mount  almost  s:inks  down  into 
the  plain.  Was  this  intended  to  symbolize  the  difference 
between  the  Law  and  the  Gospel  :  that  we  were  not  come 
to  the  mount  that  burned  with  fire — to  blackness  and  dark- 
ness and  tempest— but  to  a  mount  that  might  be  touched, 
with  no  barrier  between  us  and  our  IMaster,  to  forbid  our 


154  MOUXT    OF    THE    UKAIITUDES. 

coming  to  his  very  feet?  The  formation  of  the  ground 
is  peculiax.  It  is  not  a  rounded  summit,  but  if  we  may- 
use  a  familiar  expression,  "saddle -backed,"  with  rising 
points  at  either  end,  which  have  given  it  the  name  of 
the  Horns  of  Hattin.  Between  these  "  horns  "  is  a  small 
plateau,  to  which  Christ  is  supposed  to  have  descended 
when  he  "came  down  into  the  plain."  This  plateau  is 
the  bed  of  an  old  crater.  To  think  that  Chiust  should 
have  preached  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  on  the  crater  of 
an  extinct  volcano!  But  the  gulf  thi'ough  which  once 
flamed  the  internal  fires,  is  filled  up  now,  and  gj^ass  vraves 
over  the  bmied  ashes. 

Walking  over  the  ground  to  this  point  and  that,  looking 
off  in  every  direction,  I  perceived  that,  though  as  seen 
from  the  high  plain  to  the  west  by  which  we  approached, 
"  the  mount "  is  only  a  gentle  elevation,  yet  that  it  has  a 
commanding  position  relative  to  the  suiTounding  covintry, 
as  it  stands  alone,  on  an  upland,  fi'om  which  it  has  an 
unbroken  horizon,  not  being  "  dominated  "  by  any  higher 
eminence  in  its  immediate  vicinity.  In  fuU  view,  nearly 
two  thousand  feet  below,  lies  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  with 
mountains  all  round  it,  far  and  near,  whose  sides  are 
turned  towards  this  central  position.  But  in  the  fore- 
ground is  nothing  but  this  httle  plateau,  which  descends 
so  gently  that  thousands  might  be  stretched  on  the  grassy 
slopes.  Here  then  we  may  "rest  awhile,"  as  if  taking  a 
seat  with  the  multitude  that  once  spread  over  this  very 
ground,  to  hsten  to  words  such  as  never  fell  from  human 
lips  before. 

The  Sermon  on  the  Mount  is  the  most  remai'kable  dis- 
course of  our  Lord  that  has  been  preserved  to  us.  As  we 
ai-e  travelling,  not  merely  for  sight-seeing  but  for  instruc- 
tion, we  cannot  pass  by  this  sacred  spot,  any  more  than  by 
the  Mount  of  Olives  or  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane,  with- 


THE    SERMON    OX    'I'lIE    MOLXT.  155 

out  pausing  to  reflect  on  the  lessons  given  to  the  -world. 
Here,  as  at  Nazareth,  we  have  an  opportunity  to  study 
Christianity  on  the  spot  where  it  began,  and  may  be  able 
to  judge  if  it  can  be  "  explained,"  according  to  Renan,  on 
natural  principles,  or  on  some  theory  of  moral  "  evolu- 
tion"; or  we  ai'e  compelled  to  admit  that  there  is  in  it 
something  which  is  supernatural  and  divine. 

"And  he  went  up  into  a  mountain,  and  when  he  was 
set  his  disciples  came  unto  him."  So  simj^ly  does  the 
record  begin.  The  sermon  was  addi'essed,  first  of  all,  to 
his  disciples,  but  in  another  sense,  to  the  whole  world. 
The  mount,  though  so  modest  in  itself,  was  in  the  very 
focus  of  a  wide  region  of  country.  Standing  in  the  centre 
of  a  vast  circumference,  it  seemed  to  be  in  the  sight  of  all 
GaUlee,  and  Galilee  was  then  one  of  the  most  populous 
provinces  of  the  Roman  Empire.  It  is  almost  incredible, 
the  number  of  cities  and  villages  which,  according  to 
Josephus,  it  contained.  They  hung  on  the  sides  of  the 
mountains,  stretching  downward  to  the  shore  of  the  Lake 
below,  so  that  Christ,  sitting  on  this  mount,  seemed  to 
have  the  world  at  his  feet ;  and  to  be  speaking,  not  to  his 
disciples  only,  but  to  all  mankind. 

"And  he  opened  his  mouth  and  taught  them."  The 
first  thing  which  strikes  us  is  the  absence  of  pretension. 
There  is  no  air  of  assumption,  either  in  attitude  or  look  or 
voice.  He  does  not  stand  erect,  like  an  orator,  but  takes 
his  seat  on  the  ground,  after  the  Oriental  custom.  He 
does  not  even  raise  his  hand  to  hush  the  impatient  crowd  : 
it  does  not  need  to  be  stOled  ;  for  as  it  creeps  closer  to  his 
feet,  it  hushes  itself,  that  it  may  catch  every  word.  He 
gathers  his  little  famUy  around  him,  for  his  words  are  to 
them,  though  heard  by  the  multitude  that  presses  forward 
to  be  within  sound  of  his  voice.  They  listen  for  the  fii'st 
sentence.     And  what  is  it  ?     Some  great  sweUing  word  of 


156  WHO    AKF    THE    TRULY    lU.KSSED. 

philosophy  ?  Some  abstract  clefinition  or  subtle  analysis  ? 
Nothing  of  all  this,  but  simply  "  Blessed  ai-e  the  poor  in 
spii-it,  for  theu'S  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  The  first  Avord 
of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  is  a  word  of  consolation.  The 
world  is  full  of  siiffering,  which  Christ  comes  to  reheve. 
In  the  multitude  that  gathered  round  him,  as  in  the 
popidation  of  Galilee,  the  mass  were  poor,  and  it  may  be 
that  he  had  first  in  mind  the  literal  poor,  towards  whom 
his  heart  was  full  of  tenderness,  and  in  reversing  the 
maxims  of  the  world,  he  shows  how  the  ]X)or  may  be  rich, 
and  those  who  have  little  to  look  for  in  this  world  may  be 
heirs  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

But  the  poor  are  not  the  only  ones  who  need  to  be  toltl 
where  true  peace  is  to  be  found.  The  world  is  all  astray, 
seeking  happiness  where  it  can  find  only  disappointment. 
There  is  a  philosophy  of  the  world,  embodied  in  its  maxims 
— a  philosophy  in  proverbs — which  sums  up  its  average 
wisdom.  It  is  a  philosophy  which  glorifies  success  ;  which 
counts  him  the  happy  man  who  has  had  his  fill  of  gratified 
avarice  and  ambition.  We  are  all  more  or  less  under  this 
illusion.  If  we  were  asked  to  point  out  the  most  happy 
men  within  the  cii'cle  of  oiu*  obseii'ation,  we  might  point  to 
the  most  successful,  to  the  rich,  the  great,  and  the  proud. 

Not  so  speaks  oiu'  Master.  His  philosophy  is  dii-ectly 
opposed  to  that  of  the  world.  It  is  not  in  gratifying  the 
passions,  but  in  subduing  them,  that  rest  is  to  be  found. 
Blessed — not  are  the  rich,  but  the  poor  ;  not  the  proud, 
but  the  meek ;  not  they  that  rejoice,  but  they  that  mourn. 

Does  it  seem  as  if  these  things  were  spoken  by  way  of 
paradox,  merely  to  startle  and  svu*prise  ?  But  that  was  not 
the  way  of  our  Master,  who  never  said  anything  for  efiect, 
but  spoke  always  in  the  severe  simphcity  of  tnith.  We 
have  to  learn  by  bitter  experience  that  it  is  the  only  truth. 
Let  the  philosopher  take  these  maxims  of  Christ,  and  sub* 


PEACE    FOUND    ONLY    IN    IIUMILITY.  157 

ject  them  to  the  most  rigorous  analysis,  and  lie  will  find 
them  to  contain  not  the  truth  in  a  metaphor,  but  the  truth 
in  its  most  literal  sense.  Can  any  statement  be  more  pre- 
cisely time  than  that  there  is  more  of  j)eace  in  a  lowly 
spirit  than  in  a  proud  spirit?  Pride  is  an  uneasy  and 
uncomfortable  temper,  always  restless  and  dissatisfied. 
Humility  alone  can  give  peace,  because  it  alone  is  consist- 
ent with  our  real  condition.  If  a  man  thinks  highly  of 
himself,  he  thinks  falsely.  "Whatever  may  be  oru*  position 
as  related  to  others,  yet  in  the  eye  of  God,  who  alone  sees 
things  as  they  ai'e,  we  are  but  creatures  of  a  moment, 
"  whose  foundation  is  in  the  dust,  which  are  crushed  before 
the  moth  "  : 

"  0  why  should  the  spirit  of  mortal  be  proud  ? " 

"When  a  man  is  content  to  take  the  place  in  his  own  esteem 
that  he  has  in  the  eye  of  God,  then  he  will  find  that  perfect 
repose  and  tranquillity  of  mind  which  is  the  first  condition 
©f  time  peace  and  happiness. 

"  Te  ai'e  the  light  of  the  world !  "  This  was  spoken  to 
his  disciples,  not  to  inflame  their  pride,  but  to  give  them  a 
new  sense  of  obligation.  Looking  up  from  the  spot  where 
oui*  Saviour  sat,  we  can  see  even  now  a  town  on  the  crest 
of  a  mountain  (Safed),  the  very  same  which,  it  is  believed, 
caught  his  eye  at  the  moment,  and  gave  emphasis  to  his 
illustration  :  "A  city  that  is  set  on  a  hill  cannot  be  hid." 
So  luminous  should  be  the  power  of  example.  It  was  not 
enough  to  have  a  secret  desire  for  goodness  :  "  Let  your 
light  so  shine  before  men  that  they  may  see  your  good 
works,  and  glorify  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 

Then  declaring  that  he  is  not  come  to  destroy  the  law 
or  the  prophets,  but  to  fulfil  them,  Christ  gives  them  a 
broader  meaning  by  extending  the  obligation  to  the  heaii. 
Lust  is  adultery,  and  hatred  is  mui'der.     No  foim  of  devo- 


158  A    KEVOLUTION    IX    MORALS. 

tion  can  make  up  for  inward  bitterness  :  "  If  tliou  bring 
th}-  gift  to  the  altar,  and  there  rememberest  that  thy 
brother  hath  aught  against  thee,  leave  there  thy  gift  before 
the  altai',  and  go  thy  way  ;  first  be  reconciled  to  thy 
brother,  and  then  come  and  offer  thy  gift."  He  abrogates 
the  law  of  revenge — the  lex  talioniH :  "An  eye  for  an  eye, 
and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth  "  ;  "I  say  unto  you,  Love  your 
enemies  ;  bless  them  that  curse  you  ;  do  good  to  them 
that  hate  you  ;  pray  for  thelh  which  despitefully  use  you 
and  persecute  you."  This  is  a  revolution  in  morals !  In 
presenting  a  standard  of  virtue  so  exalted,  our  Lord  en- 
forces it  by  the  highest  of  all  examples  :  "That  ye  may  be 
the  childi'en  of  yovu'  Father  which  is  in  heaven  :  for  he 
maketh  his  sun  to  rise  on  the  evil  and  on  the  good,  and 
his  rain  to  descend  on  the  just  and  on  the  unjust.  Be  ye 
therefore  perfect  even  as  your  Father  in  heaven  is  perfect." 
Here  virtue  soars  to  the  highest  point.  Compared  with 
this,  what  is  ordinary  virtue  ?  Patriotism  is  only  selfish- 
ness in  an  enlarged  form,  an  inseparable  part  of  which  is 
"  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  and  hate  thine  enemy." 
But  here  man  is  taught  to  cultivate  a  love  which  is  that  of 
God  himself. 

So  of  the  rehgious  offices  of  almsgiving  and  prayer. 
Christ  counts  for  little  the  ostentatious  and  boastful  parade 
of  charity  :  but  the  secret  offering,  unseen  by  all  but  God, 
which  falls  like  the  dew  ujDon  some  blighted  and  suffering 
human  life — that  alone  has  any  virtue  in  his  sight.  And 
prayer !  How  vain  and  idle  are  the  long  petitions  which 
resound  in  joublic  places,  to  attract  the  ear  of  the  multi- 
tude !  "After  this  manner  j^ray  :  '  Our  Father.' "  That 
word  changes  at  once  the  relation  of  man  to  his  Maker. 
It  is  not  a  cold  and  distant  Power,  enthroned  among  the 
stai's,  to  which  man  offers  a  worship  bom  of  fear  rather 
than  of  love,  but  a  Being  with  whom  he  may  claim  kindred, 


THE   lord's    prayer.  159 

to  whom  he  stands  in  the  nearest  relation,  and  may  ap- 
proach with  the  tenderest  words.  "Our  Father" — not 
mine  only,  but  the  God  and  Father  of  all  mankind  ;  and 
yet  mine,  in  the  sense  that  he  is  very  near  to  me,  as  to 
every  human  soul.  With  such  a  Father,  how  sweet  it  is  to 
be  a  child!  "Heaven,"  it  is  said,  "is  about  us  in  om- 
infancy."  But  what  is  the  heaven  of  poetry  to  the  heaven 
of  love  ?  In  oiu-  Father's  house  we  are  at  home  ;  we  hide 
in  his  pavilion  ;  we  are  folded  under  the  shadow  of  his 
wings  ;  and  in  the  warmth  of  that  Infinite  Heai-t  ovir 
trembling-  heaiis  cease  their  throbbings  and  are  stiU. 
"  Hallowed  be  thy  name  :  Thy  kingdom  come  :  Thy  wiU 
be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven."  Short  sentences,  few 
words,  but  with  a  sweep  that  includes  the  universe.  He 
who  bows  upon  his  knees  with  every  morning's  Hght,  and 
repeats  these  words  from  the  bottom  of  his  heaii: — who  can 
say  lovingly  "  Our  Father,"  and  reverently  "  Hallowed  be 
thy  name  :  Thy  kingdom  come,"  and  submissively  (though 
it  be  sometimes  with  a  breaking  heart)  "  Thy  will  be 
DONE !  " — we  had  almost  said,  need  offer  no  other  prayer. 
At  least  he  has  caught  the  siDirit  of  all  true  devotion.  For 
ourselves,  our  wants  ai'e  few  :  daily  bread ;  forgiveness, 
(which  is  promised  to  us  only  as  we  forgive  those  who 
have  trespassed  against  lis,)  and  freedom  from  temptation 
and  from  sin — this  is  aU  for  which  we  need  to  jDray — 
these  are  all  the  real  wants  which  we  have  occasion  to 
bring  to  the  Giver  of  ail  good. 

To  minds  troubled  with  care  and  longing  for  worldly 
possessions,  what  a  rebuke  is  this  :  "  Lay  not  up  treasm-es 
upon  earth,  but  lay  up  treasures  in  heaven !  "  Vain  are  the 
anxieties  with  which  men  vex  themselves  in  aU  the  years 
through  which  they  make  their  journey  to  the  grave. 
"  Take  no  thought  for  your  life  what  ye  shall  eat,  or  what 
ye  shall  drink,  or  what  ye  shall  put  on."    At  that  moment, 


160  THE    GOLDEN    RULE. 

it  ma}'  be,  bii'ds,  which  abound  in  Palestine,  "were  flying 
across  the  sky,  and  instantly  he  takes  a  lesson  from  them  : 
"  Behold  the  fowls  of  the  air !  they  sow  not,  neither  do 
they  reap,  nor  gather  into  bams ;  yet  your  Heavenly 
Father  feedeth  them."  Another  glance  takes  in  the  wild 
flowers  that  cover  the  valleys  and  the  hills,  and  he  adds 
"And  why  take  ye  thought  for  raiment  ?  Consider  tlie 
lilies  of  the  field,  how  they  groAv  ;  they  toil  not,  neither  do 
they  spin.  And  yet  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was  not 
arrayed  like  one  of  these." 

He  cautions  his  disciples  against  that  hasty  judgment 
of  others,  to  which  we  are  all  so  much  inclined,  disposing 
hghtly  and  flippantly  of  reputations  which  are  dear  to 
them  as  ours  ai-e  to  ourselves.  What  if  the  same  easy 
and  careless  mode  of  judgment  were  turned  upon  us! 
How  could  our  characters  stand  the  scrutiny  ?  Might  we 
not  find,  at  the  very  moment  we  were  endeavoring  to 
pluck  a  mote  out  of  our  neighbor's  eye,  that  we  had  a 
beam  in  our  own  ?  In  repressing  this  proneness  to  harsh 
judgment,  ovir  Lord  lays  his  finger  on  one  of  the  chief 
vices  of  society,  one  which  was  the  reproach  of  ancient 
times  as  it  is  the  scandal  of  oiu'  own.  Nothing  in  all  the 
wide  round  of  human  wickedness  is  more  selfish  or  cruel 
than  tliis  mean  and  mahgnant  depreciation  of  our  neigh- 
bors, as  if  we  were  better  than  the3\  In  this  as  in  all 
things — in  words  or  in  deeds — there  is  one  rule  to  be  fol- 
lowed :  "  Whatsoever  ye  would  that  men  should  do  unto 
you,  do  ye  even  so  unto  them  " — a  rule  so  simple  and  so 
comprehensive  that  all  the  ages  have  pronounced  it  the 
Golden  Rule,  as  summing  up  the  whole  duty  of  men  in 
their  relations  to  each  other. 

Last  of  all,  our  Master  enjoins  a  transparent  sincerit3\ 
Vain  is  concealment  or  hypocrisy.  "By  their  fruits  ye 
shall  know  them."     Truth  alone  is  the  foundation  of  char- 


A  WISDOM  ABOVE    HUMAN  PTIILOSOPnY.  1(51 

acter,  and  that  only  will  stand  when  all  else  is  swept  away. 
It  is  vain  to  build  upon  the  sand,  however  imposing  may 
be  the  structure  to  the  eye.  "And  the  rain  descended,  and 
the  floods  came,  and  the  winds  blew  and  beat  upon  that 
house,  and  it  fell,  and  great  was  the  fall  of  it." 

Absorbed  in  such  thoughts,  we  Kngered  on  the  Mount 
of  the  Beatitudes,  as  if  chained  by  a  spell  which  we  would 
not  have  broken.  Were  such  words  ever  uttered  by  hu- 
man lips  before?  Was  there  ever  such  wisdom  united 
with  such  charity  ?  The  scene  on  the  Mount  is  indeed 
changed  ;  the  multitude  is  dej^arted,  and  the  Great 
Teacher  ;  but  the  words  here  spoken  have  gone  into  all 
the  world  ;  they  have  been  translated  into  all  the  lan- 
guages of  men,  and  are  as  fresh  to-day  as  eighteen  hun- 
dred years  ago.  They  cannot  die.  As  long  as  there  are 
human  hearts  to  suffer — men  to  sorrow  and  to  weep — 
they  will  come  to  Christ  the  Consoler.  Compared  with 
this,  what  is  the  wisdom  of  the  world !  The  sayings  of  all 
the  philosophers — not  only  of  the  Grecian  sages,  but  of 
those  who  assumed  the  lofty  role  of  founders  of  Religion, 
of  Mohammed,  of  Confucius,  and  of  Buddha — would  not 
make  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  Its  superiority  to  their 
teachings  strikes  even  those  who  are  accounted  unbe- 
lievers, who  cannot  but  recognize  this  sublime  moralitv, 
and  pay  their  tribute  to  him  who  gave  it  to  the  world. 
Says  the  celebrated  French  writer,  Rousseau  : 

I  confess  that  the  majesty  of  the  Scriptures  astonishes  me; 
the  sanctity  of  the  Gospel  speaks  to  my  heart.  See  the  books  of 
the  philosophers  with  all  their  pomp — how  small  are  they  com- 
pared to  this !  Can  it  be  that  a  book  at  once  so  sublime  and  so 
simple  should  be  the  work  of  men  ?  Can  it  be  that  he  whose  his- 
tory it  gives  should  be  only  a  man  himself '?  Is  there  here  the 
tone  of  an  enthusiast,  of  an  ambitious  sectary  ?  What  mildness, 
what  purity  in  his  manners  !  What  touching  grace  in  his  instruc- 
tions !    What  elevation  in  his  maxims !    What  profoimd  wisdom 


1G2        ROUSSEAU  ON  TEE  CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST. 

in  his  discourses !  What  presence  of  mind,  what  finesse  and  yet 
what  justice  in  his  answers !  "What  empire  over  his  passions ! 
Where  is  the  man,  where  is  the  sage,  who  linows  how  to  act,  to 
suffer,  and  to  die,  without  weakness  and  without  ostentation  ? 
When  Plato  painted  his  ideal  just  man,  covered  with  all  the  op- 
probrium of  crime,  while  worthy  of  all  the  rewards  of  virtue,  ho 
drew  trait  for  trait  the  picture  of  Jesus  Christ :  the  resemblance  is 
So  striking  that  all  the  Fathers  perceived  it,  and  it  is  impossible 
to  mistake  it.  What  prejudice,  what  blindness,  to  dare  to  com- 
pare the  son  of  Sophronisca  with  the  son  of  Mary !  What  a 
distance  from  the  one  to  the  other !  Socrates  dying  without  pain, 
without  ignominy,  sustains  easily  his  character  to  the  end ;  and  if 
this  calm  death  had  not  honored  his  life,  one  might  have  doubted 
whether  Socrates  with  all  his  genius  was  more  than  a  sophist. 
He  discovered,  they  tell  us,  the  principles  of  morality ;  but  others 
before  him  had  put  them  in  practice ;  ho  only  put  in  words  what 
they  had  done ;  he  but  turned  their  examples  into  lessons.  Aris- 
tides  had  been  just  before  Socrates  had  sot  forth  the  nature  of 
justice;  Leonidas  had  died  for  his  country  before  Socrates  had 
made  it  a  duty  to  love  one's  coimtry.  Sparta  was  sober  before 
Socrates  praised  sobriety;  before  he  defined  virtue,  Greece 
abounded  in  virtuous  men.  But  where  did  Jesus  find  among 
his  own  people  that  pure  and  elevated  morality  of  which  he  gave 
at  once  the  lessons  and  the  example  ?  From  the  bosom  of  the 
most  furious  fanaticism  was  heard  the  highest  wisdom,  and  the 
simplicity  of  the  most  heroic  virtues  honored  the  vilest  of  all 
peoples.  The  death  of  Socrates,  philosophizing  tranquilly  with 
his  friends,  is  the  mildest  that  one  could  desire:  that  of  Jesus 
expiring  in  torments,  injured,  railed  at,  cursed  by  a  whole  people, 
is  the  most  horrible  that  one  could  dread.  Socrates,  taking  the 
poisoned  cup,  thanks  him  who  presents  it  and  who  weeps :  Jesus 
in  the  midst  of  frightful  sufferings,  prays  for  his  enraged  mur- 
derers. Truly,  if  the  life  and  the  death  of  Socrates  were  those  of 
a  philosopher,  the  life  and  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ  were  those  of 
a  God ! 

Yes  truly  :  "  the  life  and  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ  were 
those  of  a  God  " !  No  other  exjilanation  will  meet  the 
case.  Natural  causes  utterly  fail  to  account  for  the  stu- 
pendous reality.     And  so  the  teachings  of  the  Great  Master 


NOT    GENIUS,  BUT   DIVINITY.  1G3 

axe  far  beyond  the  range  of  human  wisdorQ  or  philosophy. 
Genius  can  do  many  things,  but  in  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount  there  is  that  which  is  not  genius — it  is  Divinity.* 

After  this  long  musing  on  the  Mount  of  the  Beatitudes, 
we  rode  on  silently.  In  the  presence  of  such  a  scene,  one 
cannot  easily  descend  to  the  level  of  historical  associations, 
however  great.  Had  we  place  for  anj'thing  else,  we  might 
remember  that  on  this  very  mount,  and  on  the  j^lain  around 
it,  was  fought  nearly  seven  hundred  years  ago  (July  5th, 
1187)  the  last  battle  of  the  Crusaders,  whom  Saladin  here 
crushed  by  one  tremendous  blow  ;  and  yet  the  contrast 
of  such  ten-ible  scenes  does  but  heighten  the  sacred  beauty 
of  this  spot — the  Mount  of  Peace  rising  above  the  Sea  of 
Blood. 

In  turning  away  fi'om  the  Mount  of  the  Beatitudes,  we 
were  not  leaving  the  scenes  of  our  Lord's  ministry  :  for 
before  us,  in  the  deep  bosom  of  the  hiUs,  was  the  Sea  of 
Galilee.  The  descent  is  not  unlike  that  to  the  Dead  Sea. 
The  hills  indeed  are  not  so  bleak  as  those  of  the  Wilder- 
ness of  Judea,  nor  is  the  depression  of  the  waters  so  great ; 
but  looking  down  fi'om  the  heights  above,  it  seemed  as  if 
we   were   going   down   to  the  bottom  of  the  moujitains. 

*  The  force  of  this  testimony  was  felt  by  no  one  more  than  the 
late  Daniel  Webster,  who,  on  his  death-bed,  on  a  Sabbath  evening, 
Oct.  10th,  1852,  (he  died  on  the  24th)  dictated,  and  on  the  15th 
"revised  and  corrected  with  his  own  hand,"  this  inscription  to  be 
placed  on  his  tomb : 

"  LOKD,  I  BELIEVE  ;  HELP  THOU  MINE  UNBELIEF. 

"  Philosophical  argument,  especially  that  drawn  from  the  vast- 
ness  of  the  imiverse,  in  comparison  with  the  apparent  insignifi- 
cance of  this  globe,  has  sometimes  shaken  my  reason  for  the  faith 
which  is  in  me;  but  my  heart  has  always  assured  and  reassured 
me  that  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  must  be  a  Divine  Keality. 
The  Sermon  on  the  Mount  cannot  be  a  mere  human  production. 
This  belief  enters  into  the  very  depth  of  my  conscience.  The 
whole  history  of  man  proves  it." 


164  ArPKOACiriNG    THE    SKA    OF    GALILKK. 

Below  us  in  full  %aew,  on  the  shores  of  the  Lake,  was  a 
town  of  some  pretensions  as  towns  go  in  Palestine.  Seen 
from  a  distance,  with  its  ancient  tower  and  its  encii-chng 
wall,  it  appears  not  unworthy  of  a  history  that  dates  fi'om 
the  time  of  the  Romans,  and  of  its  Imperial  name  of 
Tiberias.  But  as  we  di-aw  nearer,  its  gi-andeur  disap- 
peai's,  its  tower  cannot  boast  of  being  a  fortress,  and  there 
are  sad  rents  in  its  battered  wall.  Riding  through  its 
ancient  archway,  and  along  its  narrow  streets,  we  observe 
at  once  a  striking  contrast  with  Nazareth,  which  has  a 
Christian,  while  Tiberias  has  a  Jewish,  population.  At 
almost  every  door  and  in  almost  every  shop  we  recognized 
the  corkscrew  ciu'ls  and  the  peculiar  dress,  the  cap  of  fur 
and  the  long  gabardine,  which  in  all  the  East  mark  the 
sons  of  Abraham. 

Passing  through  the  town  to  the  farther  end,  we  found 
our  tents  pitched  on  the  shore  of  the  lake,  and  were  never 
more  glad  to  get  into  camp.  Not  only  had  we  taken  a  long 
daj^'s  ride,  but  in  descending  the  hills  we  had  come  into  a 
warmer  region.  Owing  to  its  depression,  the  Sea  of  Gali- 
lee, like  the  Dead  Sea,  has  a  tropical  climate,  so  that  we 
were  heated  as  weU  as  fatigued  when  we  crawled  off  our 
horses.  Hardly  had  we  dismounted  before  I  strolled 
down  the  lake  to  seek  a  retired  place  to  bathe.  There 
are  hot  sulphur  baths  close  to  the  shore,  which  have  been 
famous  for  two  thousand  years,  to  which  Herod  came  to 
cleanse  his  blood.  The  springs  still  come  steaming  out 
of  the  hills,  and  are  the  resort  of  multitudes.  A  large 
building  encloses  a  cLrcular  l)athing-room,  where  at  any 
houi'  of  the  day  may  be  found  many  plunging  into  the 
water,  or  sitting  on  the  marble  rim  of  the  basin  sweltering 
in  the  hot  vapor  :  but  as  it  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  Pool  of 
Bethesda  for  those  suffering  from  all  kinds  of  diseases,  I 
was  content  with  mere  observation,  and  sought  rather  the 


TWILIGHT   ON    THE   LAKE.  165 

cool  margin  of  the  lake,  and  was   soon  swimming   in  its 
tranquil  waters. 

Thus  refreshed,  I  returned  to  sit  in  the  tent  door  in 
the  cool  of  the  day,  and  watch  the  shadows  creeping  over 
"  the  deep,"  and  climbing  the  sides  of  the  opposing  hills. 
The  waters  were  calm  and  still,  the  erening  wind  causing 
only  the  gentlest  ripple  on  the  bosom  of  the  lake.  "  The 
shades  of  night  were  gathering  fast "  ;  but  remembering 
who  once  walked  upon  these  waters,  I  could  not  doubt  that 
his  form  was  still  gliding  through  the  shadows ;  there  were 
soft  whisperings  in  the  air,  and  patient,  gentle  words  of 
forgiveness ;  and  to  the  trembling  heart  came  the  reassur- 
iner  voice  :  "  It  is  I  :  be  not  afraid !  " 


CHAPTEK  XIV. 
ROUND   THE   SEA    OF    GALILEE. 

It  is  not  a  sea,  but  a  lake,  and  not  even  a  lake  of  broad 
expanse,  as  we  measui-e  lakes  in  America,  but  rather 
resembles  one  of  the  small  but  exquisitely  beautiful  Eng- 
lish lakes,  like  Windermere,  or  a  Scotch  loch  lying  in  the 
lap  of  the  Grampian  Hills.  It  is  larger  than  Loch  Katrine, 
but  smaller  than  Loch  Lomond,  and  much  inferior  in  the 
majesty  given  to  it  by  a  gii'dle  of  lofty  mountains.  In  this 
respect  it  is  not  even  the  first  in  Palestine  :  for  it  is  much 
inferior  to  the  Dead  Sea,  both  in  size  and  in  the  boldness 
of  the  surrounding  sceneiy.  The  encircling  hiUs  do  not 
rise  so  high,  nor  descend  so  abruptly.  The  slopes  are 
more  gentle.  Instead  of  coming  down  sheer  into  the 
lake,  there  is  an  interval  between  the  waters  and  the  hills. 
As  I  stand  upon  the  shore  this  morning,  the  hills  on  the 
other  side  are  indeed  beautiful  as  the  sun  rises  over  them  ; 
but  they  have  not  the  sombre  grandeiu'  of  the  mountains 
of  Moab,  which  at  this  hour  cast  dark  shadows  on  the 
waters  below.  Perhaps  we  might  distinguish  the  two 
bodies  of  water  by  saying  that  while  one  has  a  character 
of  majesty,  the  other  has  that  of  softness  and  grace — fit 
symbols  of  the  histories  they  tell,  the  one  of  wrath  and 


WHY  DID  OUR  LORD  CHOOSE  A  LAKE?  1G7 

ruin,  of  judgment  and  destruction  ;  the  other  of  mildness 
and  mercy,  of  gentleness  and  peace. 

But  whatever  of  majesty  may  be  wanting  in  the  Gali- 
lean lake,  is  more  than  made  up  by  its  sacred  associations  : 
for  it  is  the  Lake  of  Jesus,  as  it  was  the  chief  scene  of  his 
ministry.  Here  he  lived  for  the  greater  part  of  three 
years.  He  walked  along  this  pebbled  beach  ;  he  sailed 
across  these  waters,  or  sat  in  a  boat  and  talked  to  the  mul- 
titude on  the  shore  ;  and  at  night  retired  into  the  recesses 
of  these  hills  to  pray  :  so  that  everything  around  us — the 
hills  and  waters,  the  waving  trees,  and  even  the  moaning 
night  winds — all  speak  of  him.  With  such  associations,  it 
is  not  too  much  to  say  with  Dean  Stanley  that  this  is  "  the 
most  sacred  sheet  of  water  that  this  earth  contains." 

But  why  did  our  Lord  choose  a  lake  for  the  scene  of  his 
ministry,  and  not  only  the  lake-side,  but  the  lake  itself  ?  If 
we  were  to  follow  the  method  of  those  naturalistic  writers, 
who  are  ready  with  a  plausible  explanation  of  everything, 
we  might  suppose  that  he  was  attracted  to  the  spot  by  his 
love  of  natui'e.  Renan,  who  has  made  such  a  careful  study 
of  the  life  of  Jesus  in  its  merely  hiiman  aspect,  and  in  its 
relation  to  its  surroundings  of  place  and  time,  remarks 
constantly  this  exquisite  sensibDity  (which  he  would  per- 
haps say  was  a  poetic  temperament)  to  the  beauty  of  the 
external  world.  Christ  loved  the  fields  and  the  flowers, 
the  mountain  top  with  its  wide  horizon,  and  the  soft,  ten- 
der beauty  of  the  valley  below.  We  can  well  believe  that 
he  was  keenly  alive  to  the  natural  beauty  of  this  lake,  while 
it  was  to  him  also  a  miiTor  of  himian  life — its  changing 
moods  of  stoiTQ  and  calm,  emblems  of  the  agitations  of  the 
human  soul,  which  would  subside  only  when  he  should 
say  :  Peace,  be  stiU  ! 

Other  reasons  occur  to  us.  Li  coming  to  the  Lake  of 
Galilee,  our  Lord  did  not  wander  fax  away  from  home.     It 


168  DEXSK  POPFLATIOX  ROI-XD  THE  LAKE. 

was  but  a  day's  journey  fi-om  Nazareth,  where  he  had 
passed  the  long  j^^riod  from  childhood  to  mature  man- 
hood. As  he  had  just  entered  on  his  active  ministry,  he 
naturally  sought  the  centres  of  population.  The  province 
of  Galilee  had  at  this  time  about  three  millions  of  inhab- 
itants. The  hills  around  the  lake  were  thick  with  villages, 
and  swarming  with  people.  Travellers  in  Italy  are  stinick 
mtli  the  dense  population  of  some  of  the  mountain  dis- 
tricts, where  innumerable  hamlets  are  scattered  among  the 
orange  and  the  lemon  groves,  and  cling,  like  trailing  ^'ines, 
to  the  sides  of  the  hills.  Not  unlike  this  were  the  hillsides 
round  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  while  its  shores  were  lined  with 
fishing  villages.  Then,  as  now,  the  lake  abounded  with 
fish,  which  supplied  food  for  a  large  population.  The 
lake  was  alive  with  boats,  not  only  in  the  daytime,  but 
at  night,  when  the  stars  sliine  so  brightly  in  these  Eastern 
heavens  ;  and  if  the  Hebrews  were  a  musical  people,  it 
is  not  unreasonable  to  suppose  that  often  the  boatmen 
sang  their  native  airs,  which  echoed  from  shore  to  shore, 
as  the  waters  of  Venice  echo  with  the  song  of  the  gon- 
dolier. 

Access  to  these  multitudes  was  rendered  easy  by  the 
climate,  as  well  as  by  the  country.  The  ministry  of  our 
Lord  was  an  itinerant  ministry.  He  had  no  fixed  place  of 
teaching.  He  did  not  set  u^)  a  school  of  theology,  like 
Hillel  or  other  learned  rabbis ;  nor  did  he  preach  chiefly 
in  the  sjTiagogues,  but  out  of  doors,  under  the  open  sky. 
He  went  fi-om  city  to  city  and  village  to  village.  This 
wandering  life  could  be  possible  only  in  a  mild  cHmate. 
Such  is  that  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  Owing  to  its  gi'eat 
depression,  it  has  a  southern  climate  in  a  northern  lati- 
tude. Its  vegetation  is  tropical  :  palms  grow  in  the 
open  ail'.  Hence  the  people  lived  out  of  doors,  as  the 
people  now  live  round  the  Bay  of  Naples,  and  could  come 


ACCESS    TO    PLACES    OF    IIETIRE.MKNT.  1G9 

together  at  any  place  or  any  hour,  when  the  Great  Teacher 
appeai'ed. 

Thus  wandering  along  the  lake  shore,  he  fixed  his  eye 
upon  the  Twelve.  Can  any  one  suppose  it  a  mere  chance, 
or  a  matter  of  indifference,  that  he  chose  his  first  discii^les 
from  among  fishermen?  All  over  the  world  a  seafaring 
popvdation  has  a  peculiar  character — open,  fi'ank,  and 
manly.  Men  of  the  sea  have  to  do  with  a  restless  and 
treacherous  element,  and  fi'equent  exposure  to  danger 
makes  them  fearless  and  bold.  Of  such  men  of  the  sea 
did  Chi'ist  choose  those  who  were  to  follow  him,  whom  he 
would  make  fishers  of  men. 

Here  was  a  little  world  by  itself,  shut  in  by  the  hills, 
yet  full  of  life,  to  which  the  Master  came.  But  life  was  not 
all  that  he  needed  :  at  times  he  needed  a  separation  fi-om 
life,  absolute  and  complete.  By  such  separation  the  great 
rehgious  spiiits  of  the  world  have  niu'sed  their  strength. 
An  irresistible  impidse  leads  them  to  seek  the  wilderness. 
So  Jesus  loved  silence  and  solitude.  He  did  not  shun  the 
society  of  men  so  long  as  he  could  do  them  good.  But 
when  the  work  of  the  day  was  done,  he  sought  retirement. 
At  Jerusalem  he  found  it  near  at  hand  on  the  Mount  of 
Olives.  Here  he  found  it  on  the  lake,  or  the  hills  around 
it.  Thus  he  had  the  busy  world  on  one  side,  and  perfect 
seclusion  on  the  other.  He  could  preach  aU  day  to  the 
multitude  that  thronged  him  ;  he  could  heal  the  sick,  and 
labor  to  the  point  of  weariness  and  exliaustion  ;  and  then 
could  put  off  fi'om  the  shore  into  the  lake,  and  float  in  the 
twilight,  or  seek  the  recesses  of  the  hills,  and  there  con- 
tinue aU  night  in  prayer  to  God. 

And  now  we  were  standing  on  the  shore  of  this  Sea  of 
Galilee,  full  of  such  sacred  memories.  To  see  it  well,  the 
traveller  may  choose  either  of  two  ways — to  ride  ai'ound 
it  or  to  sail  over  it.     "We  prefeiTed  the  latter.     The  facih- 


170  CROSSING   THE   LAKE. 

ties  are  not  great.  On  this  whole  lake,  once  alive  with  its 
fisheries,  there  are  now  less  than  a  dozen  boats.  Fortu- 
nately one  of  these  was  lying  on  the  beach,  which  we 
engaged  for  the  day,  with  its  native  crew.  It  was  prob- 
ably the  same  kind  of  boat  or  "  ship  "  used  in  the  time  of 
our  Saviour,  with  which  he  often  crossed  these  waters.  It 
had  half  a  dozen  boatmen,  which  we  found  few  enough : 
for  although  there  was  a  light  wind,  which  just  filled  the 
single  sail,  and  steadied  the  boat,  we  had  to  rely  mainly  on 
their  oars,  which  were  long,  heavy,  and  clumsy,  being  only 
small  trees,  with  the  "  butt  end  "  hewn  down  to  make  a 
narrow  blade.  Spreading  our  tent  blankets  on  the  seats 
or  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  we  sat  or  crouched  as  we 
could,  while  the  men  edged  in  between  us  wherever  they 
could  get  a  sweej)  for  their  arms. 

The  distance  from  Tiberias  to  the  head  of  the  lake  is 
eight  or  nine  miles,  which,  w  ith  the  Italian  boatmen  on 
Lake  Como  or  in  Venice,  would  not  seem  very  much  ;  but 
the  boats  here  are  not  made  for  speed — they  are  rather 
fishermen's  boats,  with  broad  bottoms  to  take  in  a  good 
haul  of  the  net. 

But  who  wotdd  hasten  his  speed  along  these  sacred 
shores?  The  morning  was  not  made  for  haste,  but  for 
floating  in  dreamy  and  delicious  reveries.  It  had  been 
very  hot  on  shore,  but  the  heat  was  soon  tempered  by  the 
lake  breeze.  In  the  novel  scene  each  one  showed  his  bent. 
"Weeden,  as  if  he  were  on  a  sailing  excursion  at  home, 
began  to  hum  "  'Way  down  on  Bingo  Fann  ";  while  Mrs. 
Adams,  entering  more  into  the  spirit  of  the  scene,  sang 
softly  to  herself  "  Fierce  was  the  wild  billow."  I  had  my 
eye  fixed  on  the  shores  as  we  glided  by.  Tiberias  is 
far  more  pictvu*esque  from  the  water  than  from  the  land. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  lake,  to  which  we  come  nearer 
as  we  "  launch  out  into  the  deej),"  is  the  country  of  the 


A    PULL    FOR   THE   SHORE.  171 

Gadarenes.  On  yonder  sloping  hillside  it  is  suj^posed  the 
demons  entered  into  the  swine,  who,  maddened  with  the 
diaboKcal  j)ossession,  rushed  down  the  steep  and  plunged 
into  the  sea.  Northeasterly  is  the  plain  on  which  Christ 
fed  the  five  thousand  ;  and  westward,  where  the  lake 
broadens  out  to  its  greatest  width,  is  the  Plain  of  Gen- 
nesareth,  on  the  border  of  which  is  a  miserable  hamlet, 
which  would  not  have  a  name  but  for  the  touching  story 
of  an  unhajipy  woman,  who  brought  her  sorrows  and  her 
sins  to  the  Savioiu^'s  feet,  and  there  found  pardon  and 
peace.  It  is  Magdala,  which  gives  name  to  Mary  Mag- 
dalene. 

While  thus  gazing  at  the  shores,  we  were  making 
progress  but  slowly,  and  with  both  sail  and  oai's  it  took  us 
four  hours  to  come  to  the  upper  end  of  the  lake,  where  the 
hills  pai't  to  the  right  and  the  left,  opening  a  broad  plain 
through  which  the  Jordan  descends  to  the  sea.  As  the 
forenoon  was  nearly  spent,  we  were  looking  out  for  a  jjlace 
for  our  noonday  camp.  Our  di'agoman  jDointed  to  a  tree 
on  the  shore  which,  standing  quite  soHtary,  presented  the 
only  hope  of  shade.  A  tree  is  a  gi-eat  thing  under  a 
S^T-dan  sun.  We  congratulated  ourselves  on  the  prospect, 
and  were  ah'eady  beginning  to  feel  its  coolness  in  anticipa- 
tion, when  we  descried  in  the  distance  a  pariy  on  horse- 
back, which  had  made  the  journey  round  the  head  of  the 
lake,  and  were  now  coming  over  the  hills,  evidently  bent 
on  the  same  destination.  They  discovered  us  at  the 
moment  that  we  discovered  them,  and  put  spurs  to  their 
horses  to  be  first  on  the  ground.  It  was  a  race  between 
horses  and  boatmen.  Had  the  distances  been  the  same, 
we  should  have  had  no  chance  at  all  ;  but  as  we  w^ere  per- 
haps a  mile  nearer  the  landing,  we  determined  to  make  the 
most  of  it,  and  starting  up  from  our  seats,  we  cheered  our 
men  with  hope  of  reward.    Backsheesh  always  has  a  mii-ao- 


172  AN    ENGLISH    PARTY. 

ulous  effect  on  the  spirit  of  a  Sman,  and  the  six  swarthy 
backs  bent  to  their  oars  and  pnllcd  as  if  for  life,  and  sud- 
denly the  battered  boat  (like  an  old  horse  that  has  been 
jogging  along  the  road,  till  a  sudden  cut  of  the  whip  wakes 
him  up  and  sets  him  %ing)  began  to  kick  up  her  heels, 
and  to  nish  madly  tlirough  the  water.  In  a  few  minutes 
she  stnick  the  beach,  and  leaping  from  the  bow,  we  rushed 
for  the  tree,  and  spread  our  rugs  at  its  foot,  which  was  as 
good  as  hoisting  a  flag  to  take  possession  of  a  conquered 
countr5^  The  ground  was  o\irs,  and  we  "  squatted  "  on  it 
with  a  proud  sense  of  possession.  Hardly  were  we  seated 
when  the  movmted  party  came  up  at  fuU  speed.  It  proved 
to  be  not  wholly  a  pariy  of  strangers,  as  it  was  composed 
of  Enghsh  officers,  some  of  whom  I  had  met  in  Jerusalem. 
They  were  attached  to  the  Bacchante,  which  had  been  tak- 
ing the  young  Princes  round  the  world,  and  was  now 
saihng  slowly  along  the  SjTian  coast,  while  the}^  under  the 
gmdance  of  their  tutors,  were  making  visits  to  different 
parts  of  Palestine.  As  the  ship  was  at  Acre,  this  party  had 
taken  advantage  of  being  in  pori  for  a  day  or  two,  to  ride 
over  the  hills  and  visit  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  The  dragoman 
was  a  S^Tian  from  Beinit,  a  former  pupil  of  Dr.  Post, 
whom  we  had  met  in  Caii'o,  and  who,  as  the  party  rode  up, 
recognized  me,  and  shouted  my  name.  Thus  hailed,  an 
American  is  expected  "  not  to  be  backward  in  coming 
forward,"  and  I  responded  warmly,  inviting  them  to  join 
our  camp,  an  invitation  which  they  soon  accepted.  But 
for  the  moment  they  were  in  full  rush,  and  dashed  away 
like  wild  Indians,  and  did  not  draw  rein  tiU  they  had 
reached  the  banks  of  the  Jordan.  Here  they  sat  on  their 
horses,  all  aglow  with  the  excitement  of  their  ride,  firing 
guns,  as  a  sort  of  naval  salute  to  "Old  Jordan,"  which, 
descending  fi-om  its  birthplace  among  the  northern  hills, 
here  melts  into  the  sea.    Having  thus  let  off  a  little  of  their 


BEDAWEEX    RETUKXTXG    TO    BASHAX.  173 

superfluous  spiiits,  they  jogged  back  slowly,  and  joined 
otu'  camp,  and  we  spent  a  pleasant  hour  or  two  together. 
While  sitting  here,  we  had  an  unexpected  sight,  in  a  great 
company  of  Bedaween,  with  two  hundred  camels,  which 
they  had  been  pasturing  among  the  hills  and  valleys  of 
Galilee,  who  were  now  returning  across  the  Jordan  to  their 
own  countiy  in  the  land  of  Bashan.  I  had  seen  nothing 
like  it  since  we  left  the  desert.  On  they  came,  big  camels 
and  little  camels,  with  Arabs  mounted  and  on  foot,  alto- 
gether a  host  of  Midianites.  Seeing  us  under  the  tree, 
they  stopped  for  a  brief  parley,  and  were  much  amazed 
when  the  Commander  of  the  Bacchante  took  up  his  breech- 
loader, and  putting  in  the  cartridges,  loaded  and  fii'ed  in 
an  instant.  The  Commander  we  found  very  agreeable 
company.  The  elder  Prince  is  a  sort  of  aid  to  him, 
though  perhaps  an  aid  chiefly  by  courtesy.  English 
officers  are  generally  men  of  great  intelhgence,  especially 
when,  as  in  this  case,  they  have  been  for  a  couple  of  years 
floating  about  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  with  the  best 
possible  opportvmities  for  obtaining  information.  Our 
acquaintances  proved  most  agreeable  gentlemen,  and  I  am 
sure  it  would  be  a  pleasure  to  any  of  our  party  to  meet 
again,  on  either  side  of  the  ocean,  the  officers  whom  we 
met  that  day  on  the  shore  of  the  Sea  of  Gahlee. 

After  oiu'  long  "nooning,"  they  mounted  to  depart, 
while  we  entered  into  "  the  ship,"  and  were  rowed  a  mile 
or  so  to  the  eastward,  to  the  mouth  of  the  Jordan,  before 
we  turned  westwai-d  to  Chorazin,  Bethsaida,  and  Caper- 
naum. The  Jordan,  where  it  empties  into  the  lake,  is  a 
large  stream,  flowing  with  a  current  almost  as  strong  as 
thsnt  at  the  Dead  Sea.  We  leaped  ashore,  and  gathered 
each  a  handful  of  the  minute  shells  which  are  here  strown 
like  sand  upon  the  beach.  Hardly  were  we  in  the  boat 
again  before  a  strong  head-wind  arose,  against  which  it 


174  UOWIXG    AGAINST   CONTRARY   WfNDS. 

was  not  easy  to  force  our  way.  The  men  rowed  hard,  but 
progress  was  slow  and  difficult.  To  make  it  worse,  the 
Bedaween  who  had  passed  us  with  their  camels  had  stop- 
ped to  take  a  swim  in  the  lake;  and  now,  seeing  our 
extremity,  they  turned  towards  us,  at  first  only  a  few,  but 
soon  after  a  much  larger  number,  and  made  a  sudden  dash 
for  the  boat,  intending  to  seize  hold  of  it,  and  perhaps  to 
cHmb  into  it,  at  any  rate  not  to  let  go  tiU  they  were  bought 
oflF.  The  rascals  thought  they  had  "  a  sure  thing,"  for  that 
the  ladies  would  be  so  terrified  that  we  would  pay  anything 
to  be  rid  of  them.  So  we  might  have  done  had  we  not  had 
a  determined  dragoman;  but  as  they  were  nearing  us, 
Floyd  started  up  with  fury  in  his  eye,  and  anger  in  his 
voice,  and  said  if  they  dared  to  come  near  the  boat,  he 
would  shoot  every  man  of  them  as  he  would  shoot  a  dog ! 
At  this  the  villains  turned  and  swam  back  to  the  shore. 

Thus  we  were  saved  from  one  danger,  but  still  we  made 
little  headway,  for  the  wind  was  contrary.  Twice  the  boat- 
men cast  out  the  anchor,  and  said  they  would  not  go  any 
further.  I  am  afraid  they  were  treacherous  :  for  this  would 
have  compelled  us  to  go  on  shore,  and  walk  for  several 
miles  to  our  camp,  presenting  a  tempting  object  to  the 
Bedaween,  who  were  still  watching  us  with  hungry  ej'es. 
When  they  were  in  the  water,  without  their  giins  (for  many 
of  them  earned  guns),  they  cotdd  do  nothing  ;  but  had  we 
set  foot  on  land,  we  should  have  been  helplessly  in  their 
power.  Floyd  saw  the  danger,  and  once  more  his  hot  tem- 
per saved  us.  His  imperious  manner  cowed  the  boatmen 
into  obedience.  After  a  few  minutes,  they  sullenly  lifted 
the  anchor,  and  again  took  to  their  oars.  But  the  wind  was 
too  much  for  their  strength.  At  last  the  ladies  w^ere  asked 
to  turn  their  gaze  seaward  or  in  the  direction  of  the  moun- 
tains, whUe  a  couple  of  the  men,  casting  off  their  garments, 
like  Peter  of  old,  plunged  into  the  lake,  and  swam  ashore 


cnoRAzrx  and  betit??aida.  175 

'with,  a  rope  in  their  hands,  and  getting  a  "  belay  "  arotmd 
rocks,  piilled  with  all  theu'  might,  while  those  in  the  boat 
rowed  hard  ;  and  so  by  the  most  fatiguing  labor,  we  crept 
slowly  along.  Once  we  gave  our  men  a  breathing  spell,  as 
we  anchored  at  Tell  Hum  and  went  on  shore,  and  wading 
through  the  long  grass,  came  upon  broken  columns  lying 
here  and  there — the  ruins  of  a  city  that  has  passed  away, 
and  whose  very  name  is  in  dispute,  some  claiming  that  it 
was  Capernaum  itself,  while  others  identify  it  with  Chorazin. 
Here,  as  elsewhere  round  the  upper  end  of  the  lake,  ruins 
and  fields  alike  are  relieved  of  any  sombre  appearance  by 
the  masses  of  color  tlirown  in  by  the  great  and  luxuriant 
oleanders,  which  at  this  season  are  covered  with  blossoms. 
"Westward  a  little  farther,  we  passed  the  ancient  Bethsaida, 
but  did  not  land,  as  the  best  which  it  has  to  show  is  its  situ- 
ation, which  is  seen  dii'ectly  from  the  water — a  vaUey  which, 
reaching  down  to  the  shore,  furnished  a  site  for  the  fishing 
village  which  was  the  home  of  Peter,  Andrew,  and  PhiHp. 
It  is  a  beautiful  spot — beautiful  even  though  the  village  or 
town  itself  be  gone,  and  only  a  few  wretched  huts  mark  the 
place  where  it  stood.  It  has  a  melancholy  interest  as  being 
coupled  with  Chorazin  in  the  prophetic  words  :  "  Woe  unto 
thee,  Chorazin !  woe  unto  thee,  Bethsaida !  ...  It  shall  be 
more  tolerable  for  Tjre  and  Sidon  at  the  judgment  than 
for  you." 

Up  to  this  point  our  men  had  been  putting  forth  all 
their  strength  in  rowing,  but  soon  after  we  passed  Beth- 
saida, they  unbent  from  their  oars,  as  we  came  into  a  little 
bay  which  was  partly  sheltered  fi-om  the  winds,  where  the 
water  was  smooth,  so  that  at  last  we  ghded  gently  to  the 
shore.  The  experience  of  this  afternoon,  though  more  wea- 
risome than  dangerous,  showed  what  the  lake  might  be  in 
a  storm,  when  the  winds  from  the  mountains  come  down 
upon  it  and  lash  it  into  fury.     Then  it  becomes  indeed  a 


176  CAPERNAUM. 

place  of  danger,  that  might  well  have  justified  the  terror  of 
the  disciples,  when  they  roused  their  Master  from  his  slum- 
ber to  save  them  from  instant  destruction. 

"We  landed  at  Khan  IVIinyeh,  and  fovmd  our  tents,  which 
had  been  sent  round  by  land  to  meet  us,  pitched  a  few 
rods  back  from  the  shore,  near  a  beautiful  spring  which 
issued  from  under  high  rocks.  Here  is  the  traditional  site 
of  the  ancient  Capernaum.  I  know  that  its  identity  has 
been  fiercely  disputed  ;  explorers  ai*e  divided  between 
Khan  Minyeh  and  Tell  Hum.  In  such  cases,  where  both 
sides  are  maintained  with  an  array  of  learning,  the  ordina- 
ry traveller  wiU  fall  back  upon  common  report,  and  accept 
that  which  has  the  authority  of  tradition.  Certainly  this 
was  worthy  to  have  been  the  site  of  a  great  city.  It  is  on 
the  borders  of  the  Plain  of  Gennesareth,  which  furnished 
ample  room  on  which  the  city  could  expand.  It  is  at  the 
head  of  the  lake,  in  a  position  favorable  to  such  commerce 
as  there  might  be  upon  it,  and  at  the  same  time  to  the  traffic 
with  the  interior  :  for  it  was  the  entrepot  of  a  great  over- 
land trade  between  Asia  and  Africa — ^between  the  valleys 
of  the  Tigris  and  the  Euphrates  on  the  one  hand,  and  the 
valley  of  the  Nile  on  the  other.  Caravans  of  camels  cross- 
ing the  desert  brought  hither  the  riches  of  the  farthest 
East.  In  the  grand  old  Roman  days,  this  was  one  of  the 
chief  seats  of  Roman  power  in  Palestine.  Here  was  the 
residence  of  the  Governor  of  Galilee.  The  province  was 
traversed  by  Roman  roads  ;  the  city  was  watered  by  Ro- 
man aqueducts  :  and  Roman  soldiers  kept  guard  in  its 
streets.  Our  camp  was  at  the  foot  of  a  cliff,  on  the  top  of 
which  is  a  small  plateau,  which  must  have  been  included 
within  the  city.  Looking  up  to  tliis  height,  it  seemed 
probable  that  there  was  an  upper  town  and  a  lower  town, 
and  that  this  elevated  plateau  was  the  AcropoHs,  on  which 
stood  the  Governor's  Palace,  and  the  citadel,  and  a  temple 


NO  TllACE  OF  ITri  ANCIFINT  MAfiNIFICENCE.        177 

to  the  gods,  or  whatever  might  show  forth  the  Imperial 
splendor.  Perhaps  our  Lord  had  this  literal  elevation  in 
his  eye,  as  a  type  of  the  haughtiness  and  pride  of  the  city, 
when  he  said  "And  thou,  Capernaum,  which  art  exalted  to 
heaven,  shalt  be  thrust  down  to  hell !  "  This  was  not  a 
curse,  but  a  judgment — a  solemn  declaration  by  one  who 
saw  the  end  from  the  beginning,  of  the  inevitable  ruin 
which  waits  on  proud  and  insolent  wickedness.  How  that 
word  has  been  accomplished,  we  see  to-day.  Of  all  that 
ancient  magnificence,  not  a  trace  remains.  One  can  hardly 
imagine  how  utter  is  the  desolation.  In  some  of  these  old 
towns  around  the  lake  not  a  human  being  is  left.  Here 
where  once  stood  a  great  city,  with  a  multitude  throng- 
ing its  streets,  every  footstep  is  departed.  This  plain  was 
once  full  of  busy  life  ;  this  lake  was  animated  by  boats 
gliding  to  and  fro.  Now  there  is  scarcely  a  sail  upon  the 
water  or  a  footprint  on  the  shore.  The  night  that  we 
camped  here,  there  was  a  young  moon  in  the  sky  that  just 
revealed  the  outlines  of  the  hills,  and  gleamed  faintly  on 
the  waters — one  of  those  nights  that  make  us  listen  for 
some  "  floating  whisper  on  the  hill  "  ;  but  all  was  silent 
as  the  grave.  The  only  sound  that  we  heard  all  night 
long,  was  that  of  the  jackals  that  made  their  habitations 
in  the  rocks,  whose  mournful  cry  at  midnight  seemed  to 
give  voice  to  the  mighty  desolation.  The  woe  had  been 
fulfiUed. 


CHAPTEE  XV. 
TO    C^SAREA-PHILIPPI  AND    ROUND  MOUNT  HERMON. 

As  we  broke  camp  in  the  morning,  and  rode  up  the 
hill,  which  I  have  supposed  was  the  ancient  AcropoUs,  we 
turned  to  take  one  more  look  at  the  Sea  of  Gahlee  l}ing  at 
our  feet.  On  the  eastern  side  the  lulls  were  still  partly  in 
shadow,  but  the  morning  light  was  creeping  over  them, 
bringing  into  view  the  outUne  of  the  sacred  shores.  Almost 
every  spot  within  the  sweep  of  the  eye  was  connected  with 
the  history  of  our  Lord.  Capernaum  was  his  home  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  three  years  of  his  ministry — a  period 
more  important  than  the  preceding  thirty  years,  which  he 
spent  at  Nazareth  :  for  here  his  life  was  not  one  of  obscu- 
rity, but  of  incessant  activity  ;  his  teaching  was  chiefly  on 
these  shores  and  waters,  and  now  his  blessed  words  seem 
to  float  upward  from  the  lake  below,  while  fi'om  the  Plain 
of  Gennesareth  the  aii",  fresh  with  morning  dew,  comes 
like  the  breath  of  God.  In  the  presence  of  such  a  scene,  it 
is  almost  an  imj^ertinence  to  speak  :  one  is  held  silent  and 
motionless.  For  a  few  moments  we  sat  on  our  horses,  not 
saying  a  word,  and  then  turned  and  silently  rode  away. 

As  we  leave  the  lake  behind,  we  enter  a  rough  hill- 
countr}',  which  is  the  character  of  this  portion  of  Galilee. 


NORTHERN    GALILEE.  179 

Our  faces  were  set  towards  the  North,  following  a  route 
parallel  to  the  course  of  the  Jordan,  although  we  were  not 
in  the  vaUey,  nor  even  within  sight  of  it,  as  our  view  was 
inteiTupted  by  the  hills,  among  which  we  were  riding  all 
the  forenoon  ;  and  as  of  course  there  are  no  roads,  but 
only  bridle-paths,  we  had  to  pick  our  way  among  the 
stones.  The  country  seemed  deserted  of  human  habita- 
tions :  there  were  no  towns — we  did  not  see  even  a  village. 
Its  appearance  was  made  still  more  desolate  by  being  with- 
out trees.  While  riding  among  the  hills,  I  did  not  see  a 
single  tree.  "Whether  this  be  owing  to  the  government 
tax  on  trees,  or  to  the  wastefulness  of  the  people  in  cutting 
for  fuel  every  young  tree  almost  as  soon  as  it  shows  its 
head  above  ground,  I  know  not  :  I  only  state  the  fact,  that 
the  landscape  was  absolutely  treeless.  But  though  in  this 
respect  it  is  stripped  and  barren  as  the  deseri,  it  is  not 
like  the  desert  in  the  poorness  of  its  soil  or  the  absence  of 
cultivation  :  for  rough  and  rocky  as  is  this  portion  of 
Northern  Galilee,  it  is  neither  tininhabited  nor  unctdti- 
vated.  There  were  men  ploughing  in  the  fields,  as  we  had 
seen  them  in  the  South  Country  when  we  first  entered 
Palestine.  Yet  here,  as  there,  the  mode  of  agriculture  is 
very  poor  ;  the  oxen  are  small  ;  the  plough  is  of  wood,  with 
an  iron  point,  and  only  a  single  handle,  as  it  is  guided  by 
one  hand,  while  the  other  holds  an  ox-goad,  with  which  the 
poor  little  beasts  are  punched  and  prodded  over  the  rough 
soil.  Still  with  all  these  di'awbacks,  the  country  was  fairly 
cultivated,  some  fields  were  waving  with  ripening  harvests  ; 
and  the  people  were  better-looking,  they  had  lighter  com- 
plexions and  more  animated  features,  than  those  we  had 
seen  before,  and  responded  pleasantly  to  oiu'  salaams  as  we 
passed.  Oiu'  knowledge  of  Arabic  is  not  extensive,  being 
confined  to  half  a  dozen  words  ;  but  what  we  lack  in  num- 
ber, we  make  up  in  reiteration.     When  we  see  a  dashing 


180  THE  WATHKS    OF    MP^KOM. 

rider  approaching,  we  sit  bolt  upright  in  ovir  saddles,  and 
explode  "  Marhaba !  "  at  him  with  a  sonorous  voice,  which 
at  once  commands  his  attention,  and  evokes  from  the  depth 
of  his  bosom  a  guttural  reply.  We  have  not  met  anybody 
so  churlish  as  not  to  return  our  salutations.  Even  the 
Bedaween  are  not  to  be  outdone  in  politeness,  although  in 
otlier  circumstances  they  might  have  considered  it  in  the 
way  of  business  to  rob  us  if  they  could.  So  we  jogged  up 
hill  and  down  dale,  in  a  flow  of  spirits  which  made  us  for- 
get the  rough  paths  under  our  feet.  The  mules  had  a 
hard  time  of  it,  carrjang  their  heavy  loads  over  the  hills  : 
but  they  did  not  seem  to  mind  it,  their  bells  ringing 
merrily,  in  unison  with  the  general  cheerfulness.  As  a 
reward  for  our  good  nature,  after  a  few  hours  the  appear- 
ance of  the  country  changed  from  desolateness  to  fertility. 
Towards  noon  we  again  caught  the  gleam  of  waters  in  the 
distance.  Before  us  opened  a  broad  and  beautiful  vaUey, 
through  which  stretched  a  sheet  of  water  more  like  a  lake 
than  a  river — indeed  it  was  both — for  we  had  come  back 
to  the  Jordan,  which  here  overflows  its  banks,  and  spreads 
out  so  widely  that  for  a  few  miles  the  river  is  expanded 
into  a  lake.  "We  were  approaching  the  famous  Waters  of 
Merom,  around  which  is  a  broad  belt  of  the  richest  alluvial 
soil.  This  is  the  Plain  of  the  Jordan,  which  is  here  nearly 
as  wide  as  the  Plain  of  Jericho,  and  much  more  highly 
cultivated. 

The  ride  of  the  afternoon  was  a  pleasant  contrast  to 
that  of  the  morning,  as  we  came  down  out  of  the  hills,  and 
entered  this  broad  and  fertile  plain.  The  sight  of  water  is 
gratefid  to  the  eye  after  passing  over  a  rugged  country, 
and  stiU.  more  so  when  it  is  bordered  with  fertile  pastures 
that  reach  back  to  the  foot  of  the  hiUs.  We  found  the 
valley  very  populous,  although  its  population  is  an  uncer- 
tain and  migratory  one.     The  Plain  of  the  Jordan  is  one 


THE    PLATX    OF    THE    JORDAN.  181 

great  pasture-ground  of  the  Bedaween.     How  it  comes  to 
be  so  is  quite  apparent  from  its  geography.     The  moun- 
tains, which  form  a  natural  barrier  on  the  lower  Jordan, 
here  sink  down  so  that  there  is  nothing  to  keep  out  the 
Ishmaelites,  to  whom   no  land   is   sacred  from  invasion. 
They  come  over  in  vast  numbers  from  their  homes  among 
the  hills  of  Bashan,  bringing  their  flocks  and  herds  with 
them,  and  camp  for  a  few  months  till  they  have  eaten  up 
the  pasturage.     They  live  in  huts,  or  in  tents,  made,  as  on 
the  desert,  of  the  hair  of  the  black  goats — a  custom  inher- 
ited from  patriarchal  times,  as  we  read  in  the  Bible  of 
"the  black  tents  of  Kedar."     The  cloth  woven  from  this 
material  is  very  strong.     We  saw  some  Arabs  moving  their 
camp,  and  from  the  number  of  men  it  took  to  carry  one  of 
these  tent  covers,  it  seemed  as  if  it  must  be  as  heavy  as  the 
thickest  canvas  used  for  the  sails  of  ships.     Of  course  it  is 
very  dvirable,  as  it  must  be  to  withstand  the  variations  of 
heat  and  cold,  and  the  early  and  latter  rains,  which  some- 
times come  down  in  floods.     Half  a  dozen  of  these  broad 
tents  will  make  an  Ai*ab  village ;    and  when  pitched,  as 
they  often  are,  on  the  sides  of  the  hills,  they  are  very  pic- 
turesque.    The   Plain   of  the   Jordan   gave   us  the   most 
pleasant  side  of  Arab  life  that  we   saw  anywhere.     The 
people   are   engaged   in   peaceful   occupations ;    they   are 
shepherds,  and  there  is  always  something  poetical  in  a 
pastoral  Life.     A  shepherd  tending  his  flock  of  sheep  is  a 
pleasing  figture  in  a  landscape  ;  even  the  buffaloes  wallow- 
ing in  the  shallow  waters,  among  the  reeds  and  rushes, 
attract  the  eye  as  a  picture  of  lazy  life,  which  transports 
one's  thoughts  to  the  interior  of  Africa.     Our  road,  while 
leading  through  the   plain,  yet  kept  at   a  distance   fi'om 
the  watei',  as  the  nearer  ground  is  often  wet  and  marshy ; 
and   as  we   rode  along  under  the   shadow   of  the   liills, 
several  times  this  afternoon,  we  heard  a  shepherd's  boy 


182  A  SCENE    IX  AliCADIA. 

pla}-ing  on  a  reed  pipe,  to  call  his  sheep.  With  this 
pastoral  music  in  our  ears,  we  pitched  our  tents  on  the 
bank  of  one  of  the  tributary  streams  of  the  Jordan,  in 
full  view  of  Mount  Hermon.  Never  did  tired  travel- 
lers camp  in  a  loveUer  spot.  We  had  had  a  long  and 
weary  day's  march,  and  the  rest  was  very  grateful.  The 
people  gathered  about  us  with  curiosity  to  see  the 
strangers,  but  not  in  an  unfriendly  way ;  though  Floyd 
cautioned  us  not  to  let  them  presume  on  any  famiharity, 
saying  rather  brusquely  "  If  we  make  friends  with  them, 
they  will  swarm  down  upon  us  and  clean  us  out."  We 
obsers'ed  that,  mild-mannered  as  they  seemed,  they  all 
can-ied  long-handled  spears,  which  might  come  into  instant 
use  on  a  very  shght  provocation.  But  as  long  as  they  let 
us  alone,  and  kept  at  a  safe  distance,  we  could  look  on  and 
see  how  they  enjoyed  themselves,  with  no  uncomfortable 
drawbacks.  It  was  pleasant  to  see  them  light-hearted  and 
happy ;  and  when,  in  the  morning,  just  before  we  mounted 
our  horses,  the  men  and  women  of  an  Arab  camp  foimed 
a  ring  on  the  green  sward,  and  executed  a  rustic  dance 
before  setting  out  for  the  flocks  which  they  were  to  watch 
through  the  day,  it  was  a  sight  to  make  a  traveller  think 
he  had  suddenly  lighted  on  a  scene  in  Arcadia.  In  these 
outdoor  exhibitions  Arab  life  is  seen  at  its  best.  One 
must  not  penetrate  too  far  into  the  interior.  The  villages 
are  not  Arcadian.  As  we  resumed  our  march,  and  after  a 
long  ride  up  the  Plain  of  the  Jordan,  passed  round  the 
head  of  the  Waters  of  Merom,  our  route  led  through  a 
village  of  huts  made  of  a  kind  of  matting  woven  of  the 
reeds  which  grow  on  the  borders  of  the  lake,  and  hung  on 
cross  poles,  not  unlike  those  I  had  seen  in  India  and 
Biirmah.  They  were  wretched  habitations,  but  swarming 
with  life.  It  was  plain  that  there  was  no  danger  of  the 
race  dying  out.     As  we  rode  through  the  long,  narrow 


THE   SPRINGS    OF   THE    JOItDAX.  183 

path  between  these  miserable  dwellings,  men,  women,  and 
children  rushed  to  the  doors  to  see  us  pass.  Every  little 
hand  was  stretched  out  for  something.  "  Backsheesh ! 
backsheesh  \  "  was  the  cry  ;  and  as  if  even  this  were  too 
much  for  children's  throats,  the  word  was  shortened  into 
"'sheesh,"  which  was  hissed  from  hundreds  of  Httle  voices. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  very  dogs  yelped  backsheesh. 

When  we  turned  away  from  the  Waters  of  Merom,  we 
had  "  passed  over  Jordan,"  and  were  in  the  enemy's  coun- 
try, or  what  might  have  been  so  had  we  been  near  the 
Dead  Sea.  But  though  we  had  crossed  the  river,  we  were 
still  among  its  springs,  which  we  were  following  up  to 
their  source  in  the  sides  of  Hermon.  The  country  gradu- 
ally ascends,  leading  us  upward.  Part  of  our  way  we 
followed  the  track  of  an  old  Roman  road,  and  crossed  one 
of  the  principal  affluents  of  the  Jordan  by  a  bridge  whose 
massive  arch  still  shows  the  work  of  Roman  hands. 
Wherever  we  come  upon  the  footsteps  of  these  ancient 
masters  of  the  world,  they  are  marked  by  roads  and 
bridges — the  signs  of  their  civilization  and  the  instru- 
ments of  their  power.  "All  roads  lead  to  Rome."  So  it 
was  meant  to  be,  not  only  in  Italy  and  Gaul  and  Spain, 
but  even  in  remote  provinces,  where  easy  means  of  com- 
munication di'ew  towards  Rome  the  most  distant  parts  of 
the  mighty  empire.  Continuing  our  coiu'se,  we  came  to 
Dan,  the  spot  to  which  Abraham  pursued  the  Amorites 
who  had  captiu'ed  Lot.  This  is  the  Umit  of  the  Land  of 
Canaan,  which  is  defined  as  reaching  "  from  Dan  to  Beer- 
sheba."  Its  northern  boundary  was  not  a  mountain,  but  a 
river,  or  rather  a  fountain — the  chief  of  the  headsprings  of 
the  Jordan.  Here  we  came  upon  a  scene  as  pleasing  as  it 
was  unexpected — a  party  of  natives  returning  fi'om  Tibe- 
rias, where  they  had  been  to  bathe  in  the  hot  springs. 
They  were  all  in  gay  attire,  like  Italian  or  Spanish  peas- 


184  BAN  I  AS    OR    C^SAKEA-PHILIPPI. 

ants  decked  out  for  afesia.  A  pretty  company  of  pilp^rims 
truly !  The  bright-eyed  SjTian  girls  were  in  their  "  Sun- 
day's best,"  and  resting  under  some  large  oaks  which 
shaded  the  foimtain.  So  charming  was  the  picture  they 
made  in  their  gay  dresses,  sitting  under  the  trees,  that  we 
felt  almost  guilty  to  disturb  them,  though  the  bridle-path 
led  through  the  group  ;  but  we  made  the  best  apology  we 
could,  by  touching  our  caps  and  bowing  very  low,  as  we 
rode  through  the  stream,  and  up  the  bank,  and  under  the 
oaks.  It  was  a  pleasant  relief  to  the  squalid  misery  of 
which  one  sees  so  much  in  Palestine,  to  come  upon  such  a 
scene  of  innocent  festivity. 

Another  hour's  ride  brought  us  to  Banias,  where  we 
halted  at  noon,  not  in  a  clump  of  trees,  but  in  a  large  and 
stately  grove,  the  very  air  of  which  was  made  musical  by 
the  sound  of  streams,  which  were  bubbling  and  dashing 
around  us.  It  reminded  me  a  little  of  Tivoli,  though  the 
waters  do  not  poiir  from  any  "  headlong  height,"  but  rush 
upward  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  Here  is  another 
som-ce  of  the  Jordan,  which  issues  from  a  cave,  as  the 
Ganges  flows  out  from  under  a  glacier  of  the  Himalayas. 
These  sparkling  blue  waters  look  as  if  they  came  out  of  a 
region  of  icy  cold.  The  spot  is  one  of  great  natural 
beauty,  with  its  mingled  woods  and  rocks  and  streams. 
In  the  days  of  the  old  mythology,  such  nooks  and  dells 
were  haunted.  There  were  sylvan  and  woodland  deities — 
gods  of  the  woods  and  streams  ;  and  we  are  not  surprised 
to  find  the  cliffs  above  this  fountain  of  the  Jordan  carved 
into  shrines. 

Banias  is  also  a  place  of  historical  interest,  from  the 
many  traces  which  it  has  of  Roman  occupation.  Situated 
at  the  head  of  the  Jordan  valley,  it  marks  a  natural  divis- 
ion of  the  country.  Here  we  leave  Palestine  and  enter 
Syria.     Its  position  also,  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Hermon, 


BANIAS    OR    CESAIIEA-PIIILIPPI.  185 

which  of  itself  forms  the  strongest  defence  in  its  rear,  is  a 
military  one,  as  it  holds  the  key  to  the  province  of  Gali- 
lee. Accordingly  it  was  fortified  by  the  Romans,  and  a 
town  rose  on  this  spot  which,  in  honor  of  the  Emperor  and 
of  the  Governor,  received  the  double  name  of  Caesarea- 
Philippi.  All  this  region  bears  marks  of  the  Roman  rule. 
Scattered  along  the  road  from  Dan  to  Banias,  on  every 
commanding  point,  are  blocks  of  stone  carefully  dressed, 
and  some  of  them  even  carved,  the  work  of  Roman  hands. 
What  remain  and  are  above  ground,  are  probably  not  a 
hundredth  part  of  what  lie  buried  in  the  earth,  or  what 
have  been  dug  up  and  carried  away  :  for  these  ruins  have 
been  the  spoil  of  sixty  generations.  To  this  day  the  peo- 
ple use  them  for  building.  Even  as  we  passed,  we  saw 
a  party  digging  up  the  stones  and  carrying  them  off 
on  camels.  This  seems  almost  like  sacrilege,  but  can  we 
blame  the  poor  inhabitants  of  this  region,  when  even  the 
Coliseiun  of  Rome  has  been  despoiled  to  build  its  modem 
palaces  ? 

Csesarea-Philippi  is  also  an  important  site  in  the  Gospel 
history :  for  it  is  the  most  northern  point  visited  by  om- 
Lord.  Here  and  in  this  neighborhood  he  spent  some 
weeks  in  the  last  year  of  his  ministry.  Not  far  fi-om  this 
spot,  some  lower  shoulder  of  Harmon  is  supjoosed  to  be 
the  Mount  which  was  the  scene  of  the  Transfiguration. 

After  resting  a  couple  of  houi-s  in  the  grove  at  Banias, 
we  mounted  and  took  our  way  through  the  village,  where 
one  may  see  here  and  there  fallen  colvunns,  and  the  ruins 
of  old  Roman  arches ;  and  then  began  to  climb  the  hills, 
which  at  first  were  covered  with  olive  orchards,  but  soon 
grew  more  bleak  and  bare.  On  the  top  of  one  is  a  ruined 
castle,  whose  enormous  size  and  strength  reminded  me  of 
the  Castle  of  Heidelberg,  although  it  is  of  vastly  greater 
antiquity  than  any  castle  on  the  Rhine  or  the  Neckar,  the 


18G  OX    THE   SIDE    OF    HKRMOX. 

mode  of  dressino^  its  stones  showing  that  its  massive  foun- 
dations were  laid  by  the  Phcenicians.  It  commands  one 
of  the  most  extensive  views  in  Palestine.  These  mountain 
fortresses  ai"e  a  striking  featiu-e  of  the  countiy.  While 
looking  with  amazement  at  these  mighty  walls,  we  turned 
westward,  and  saw  in  the  distance  another  castle,  which 
seemed  to  be  the  counterpai't  of  this,  although  of  more 
recent  date  :  for  it  is  the  Chateau  Neuf  of  the  Crusaders, 
standing  on  the  crest  of  a  mountain,  relieved  against  the 
glowing  western  sky.  That  mountain,  like  Marathon, 
"looks  on  the  sea,"  and  its  castle  frowns  on  Tp-e  and 
Sidon  and  the  Mediten'anean  coast.  Thus  ai'e  two  periods 
of  history  and  two  civilizations — distant  not  only  fi-om  us, 
but  from  each  other — brought  "  eye  to  eye,"  as  Phoenicians 
and  Crusaders  signal  to  each  other  fi^om  mountain  top  to 
mountain  top,  across  an  abyss  not  onlj'  of  centuries,  but  of 
millenniums. 

"We  were  now  on  the  side  of  the  lordly  Hermon,  and 
went  slowly  climbing  upward  into  the  higher  altitudes  and 
the  sharper  air.  The  evening  found  us  at  an  elevation  of 
some  thousands  of  feet.  The  change  of  temperature  was 
xery  greed,  irom.  that  of  the  Jordan  valley,  where  only  last 
night  we  found  it  extremely  warm,  while  here  to-night  it 
is  bitter  cold.  We  are  camped  in  a  httle  mountain  valley, 
which  might  easily  be  imagined  to  be  among  the  Alps. 
It  is  a  cheerless  spot :  there  is  not  a  tree  in  sight ;  only 
dreary  rocks,  and  patches  of  snow  are  still  lying  on  the 
heights  around  us.  And  yet  it  is  not  without  its  pleasing 
features,  in  the  flocks  of  sheep  in  the  mountain  pastures. 
Near  us  is  a  little  ^ilpine  village,  nestled  in  the  side  of  the 
mountain,  under  which  it  seems  to  be  seeking  shelter. 
The  houses  furnish  a  better  protection  than  the  tents  of 
the  Bedaween,  or  even  their  mat-covered  huts.  They  have 
to  be  of  a  different  material,  to  be  habitable  :  for  in  Winter 


AN  ALPINE  VILLAGE.  187 

these  mountain  valleys  are  buried  deep  in  snow.  Though 
plain  and  of  but  one  story,  the  houses  are  of  stone,  and 
being  backed  against  the  mountain,  which  shelters  them 
from  the  winds,  they  may  be  kept  at  a  temperature  at 
which  life  can  be  preserved.  The  people  are  Dinises — a 
Moslem  sect  chiefly  known  to  the  world  by  their  war  with 
the  Maronites  in  1860,  in  which  they  committed  frightful 
massacres.  Notwithstanding  their  reputation,  we  found 
them  very  decent-looking  mountaineers.  They  thronged 
around  our  tents  to  sell  eggs  and  chickens,  and  appeai-ed 
quite  friendly,  but  we  did  not  think  it  wise  on  that  account 
to  intermit  our  customar^^  precaution  of  sending  to  the 
sheikh  for  a  guard.  Thus  in  our  guarded  tents,  wrai:)ping 
our  coverlids  and  garments  about  us  to  keep  out  the  moun- 
tain winds,  we  lay  down  to  tranquil  slumber. 

But  a  keen  and  frosty  air  is  a  wonderful  quickener  of 
life  at  the  breaking  of  the  day.  Travellers  must  needs  stii* 
about  to  set  the  blood  tingling  in  their  veins.  And  so, 
with  all  the  picturesqueness  of  its  scenery-,  we  were  not 
unwilling  to  leave  our  Aljnne  home.  We  were  early  in  the 
saddle,  making  long  strides  down  the  mountain.  Again 
we  had  hills  upon  hills,  and  rocks  upon  rocks,  among 
which  crags  of  basalt  began  to  crop  out  of  the  hmestone, 
over  which  we  plodded  on  patiently  as  we  could,  when 
suddenly,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  there  biu'st  upon  us  a 
vision  of  Paradise.  We  had  been  toOiug  along  the  moun- 
tain side,  when  a  point  of  the  road  brought  us  in  sight  of  a 
region  of  boundless  fertility.  We  were  looking  down  upon 
the  great  Plain  of  Damascus,  beyond  which  rose  on  the 
eastern  horizon  the  black  basaltic  hills  and  mountains  of 
the  Hauran.  As  if  to  make  the  contrast  more  complete, 
an  hour  or  two  later,  as  we  swept  round  the  mountain, 
there  rose  on  our  left,  above  intervening  summits  which 
had  hid  his  face,  the  sno-ny  head  of  Hermon,  not  standing 


188  CAMP    rX    SIGHT    OF    DAMASCUS. 

alone,  but  the  highest  peak  in  the  long  range  of  the  Anti* 
Lebanon.  Thus  one  glance  took  in  the  region  of  eternal 
snow  and  the  region  of  sunshine  and  flowers. 

But  it  is  one  thing  to  have  a  vision  of  Paradise,  and 
another  to  enter  into  it.  It  was  a  long  and  weary  ride 
down  the  mountain.  The  winds  from  the  heights  above 
us  were  cold  and  clull,  and  made  us  shrink  and  shiver  on 
our  horses  ;  nor  could  we  quite  forget  the  piercing  blast, 
even  when  late  in  the  afternoon  we  caught  sight  of  the 
great  Mosque  of  Damascus.  At  last,  at  six  o'clock,  we 
reached  the  place  for  our  camp,  a  little  outside  of  the  town 
of  Katana,  beside  a  clear  rushing  stream,  a  branch  of  the 
Pharpar.  Here,  though  within  foui'  hours  of  Damascus, 
we  pitched  our  tents,  not  only  for  the  night,  but  for  the 
following  day :  for  once  more  the  Sabbath  had  come. 
How  delicious  is  it  for  tired  pilgi'ims  to  awake  one  morn- 
ing in  the  week,  and  not  be  obliged  to  move !  To  lie  and 
think  of  fatigues  and  perils  all  past,  with  no  sense  of  fatigue 
or  peril  near,  is  one  of  the  exqmsite  pleasures  of  the  trav- 
eller. Our  men  were  long  in  "  coming  to."  At  last  they 
rubbed  their  eyes,  and  "  limbered  up  "  sufficiently  to  get 
breakfast,  after  which  they  went  to  sleep  again.  It  was 
good  to  see  them  sink  into  such  profound  slumber — a 
slumber  which  fell  alike  on  man  and  beast.  The  mules 
were  stretched  on  the  grass,  while  the  muleteers  were 
leaning  against  the  tent-poles  in  a  state  of  absolute  for- 
getfubiess,  sleeping  like  the  Seven  Sleepers.  It  was  a 
camp  of  the  dead. 

But  in  one  tent  there  was  wakefulness  and  watchful- 
ness, and  had  been  all  night  long,  for  there  was  great 
anxiety.  One  of  our  party  was  ill.  Mrs.  Adams,  who  is 
very  slight  of  figure,  and  apparently  incapable  of  much 
endurance,  had  borne  all  the  fatigues  of  the  march  from 
Jerusalem,  riding  on  horseback,  facing  the  wind  and  the 


A  n.VY  OF   REST.  189 

storm,  and  keeping  up  with  any  of  us.  But  this  ride  over 
Moimt  Hermon  was  "  the  last  straw  "  ;  and  when  we  reached 
camp,  she  crept  off  her  horse  utterly  exhausted.  For  a  few 
hours  we  were  in  sore  apprehension.  Fortunately  I  re- 
called the  name  of  a  pupil  of  Dr.  Post  at  Beirut,  who  is 
now  the  leading  physician  of  Damascus,  and  a  messenger 
was  sent  for  him,  and  at  three  o'clock  he  came  riding  into 
camp.  His  judicious  treatment,  and  the  best  of  all  medi- 
cine— a  Sabbath  day's  rest — soon  checked  the  alarming 
features  of  the  case,  and  we  were  made  unspeakably  happy 
at  the  relief  from  a  great  anxiety. 

With  the  feeling  of  relief  there  came  a  fuller  enjoyment 
of  the  day  of  rest.  Our  messenger  had  brought  back  fi-om 
Damascus  letters  which  had  been  forwarded  fi-om  Beirut, 
so  that  in  our  tents  under  the  shadow  of  Mount  Hermon, 
we  were  not  far  from  home  ;  at  the  same  moment  we  were 
grateful  for  the  recovery  of  a  friend  at  our  side,  and  for 
the  safety  of  the  dear  ones  far  away.  These  mingled 
causes  of  gratitude  glided  into  our  hearts  that  still  Sab- 
bath afternoon.  When  we  are  thus  grateful  and  happy, 
all  things  in  nature  seem  to  be  in  harmony  with  our 
spirits.  The  stream  that  ran  before  oiir  tents  sang  to  us 
of  home — of  our  own  dear  New  England,  that  land  of 
mountain  streams.  On  the  other  side  of  it  was  an  enclos- 
ure filled  with  trees — at  once  an  orchard  and  a  garden — 
and  it  seemed  as  if  we  were  smelling  the  apple  blossoms  ; 
while  the  mighty  dome  above  us,  rising  into  the  clouds, 
pointed  upwards  to  the  sovirce  of  all  good,  fi'om  which  aU 
blessings  descend,  "  as  the  dew  of  Heimon,  and  as  the  dew 
that  descended  vipon  the  mountains  of  Zion,  for  there  the 
Lord  commanded  the  blessing,  even  life  forevermore." 


CHAPTER  XVL 

THE    CITY    OF    DAMASCUS. 

In  approaching  Damascus,  one  has  in  some  degree  the 
same  feeling  of  wondering  expectation,  not  nnmingled 
with  awe,  as  in  approaching  Jerusalem.  It  is  (or  claims 
to  be)  the  oldest  city  in  the  world  ;  at  any  rate  its  history 
reaches  far  back  into  the  twihght  of  antiquity.  It  is  the 
real,  if  not  the  nominal,  caj^ital  of  Islam,  fi'om  which 
marched  the  armies  of  Saladin,  as  stiU  march  the  pil- 
grims to  Mecca  ;  and  it  is  said  to  be  the  most  i:)iu'ely 
Oriental  of  cities.  These  things  put  us  in  a  high  state  of 
expectation,  as  we  mounted  our  horses  to  make  our  entry 
into  Damascus.  In  one  respect  our  mode  of  travel  was 
changed  :  we  had  a  road.  We  had  left  our  rough  moun- 
tain paths,  and  come  down  into  the  plain,  and  for  the  first 
time  since  we  left  'Egypt  had  a  highway  over  which  a  car- 
riage could  be  driven.  This  was  all-important  for  the  one 
who  most  occupied  oxir  thoughts.  A  carriage  had  been 
sent  out  from  Damascus  by  which  our  dear  invalid  was 
taken  into  the  city  with  safety  and  comfort.  Our  riding 
party  was  farther  reduced  by  the  absence  of  Mr.  and  jVIrs. 
Winter,  who  had  left  us  on  Sunday  morning,  he  on  horse- 
back, and  she  in  her  palanquin.     The   rest   of  us  were 


JOHN    GILPTN'S   ride.  101 

mounted  as  usual,  and  the  broad  road  enabled  us  to  ride 
abreast,  instead  of  following  one  another  in  single  file,  as 
we  had  done  in  the  britUe-i^aths  over  the  hills.  An  extra 
horse  in  the  company  gave  an  opportunity  for  an  extra 
rider.  Among  our  servants  was  a  felloAV  called  Scander 
(short  for  Alexander),  who  by  his  good  humor  and  merri- 
ment was  the  amusement  of  the  whole  party.  He  did  not 
always  have  a  chance  to  ride,  but  this  morning,  as  there 
was  an  empty  saddle,  he  wished  to  display  his  horseman- 
ship, and  boldly  challenged  Weeden,  who  was  our  champion 
rider,  to  a  race,  and  even  offered  to  wager  a  Tui'kish  doUar 
on  winning  it,  which  he  put  into  the  hands  of  a  clergyman 
of  our  party  (I  will  not  mention  his  name  ;  it  was  not  Dr. 
Adams)  to  hold  the  stakes.  So  the  coursers  drew  up,  and 
we  had  John  Gilpin's  ride  over  again.  Poor  Scander,  ^\-ith 
his  keffiyeh  and  his  baggy  trousers,  looked  like  a  bag  of 
meal  tossed  on  the  horse's  back,  and  as  his  legs  spread  far 
apart  in  the  heat  of  the  race,  he  "went  flying  all  abroad." 
But  Weeden,  much  better  mounted,  took  the  long  strides, 
and  easily  came  in  ahead  ;  and  then,  with  the  dignity  of  a 
conqueror,  magnanimously  declined  to  receive  the  wager 
he  had  won.  So  ended  the  race,  as  aU  races  ought  to  end, 
in  leaving  the  parties  as  before.  It  was  a  harmless  frohc, 
which  left  no  bad  blood  behind  it,  but  only  both  riders  in 
a  glow  of  ruddy  health,  and  the  rest  of  the  party  in  a  gale 
of  laughter. 

After  our  fast  riders  had  thus  let  off  their  spirits,  we 
all  jogged  on  quietly,  observing  the  featui'es  of  the  coun- 
try. The  Plain  of  Damascus  is  like  the  Valley  of  the  Nile, 
blossoming  out  of  the  desert,  quickened  by  the  same  cause, 
a  life-giving  river.  What  the  Nile  is  to  Cairo,  the  Abana  is 
to  Damascus.  Bursting  from  a  pass  in  the  mountains,  it 
flows  through  the  plain,  converting  into  a  garden  what 
were  otherwise  a  steiile  waste.     All  this  fertility  has  been 


192  illK  APrROACII    TO    DAMASCUS. 

brought  into  being  by  the  magic  touch  of  the  waters : 
Avhere  they  cannot  reach,  the  desert  remains.  On  our  left 
was  a  range  of  hills  as  barren  as  any  we  had  seen  in  the 
march  to  Sinai  ;  while  on  our  right  was  a  country  as  rich 
as  the  Delta  of  Egypt.  As  we  approached  the  city,  the 
whole  environs  seemed  to  be  embowered  in  shade.  The 
effect  was  the  greater  because  of  a  sudden  gathering  of 
clouds,  which  darkened  not  only  the  sky,  but  the  earth 
below,  and  gave  a  deeper  and  richer  hue  to  this  mass  of 
tropical  vegetation.  As  we  entered  the  outskii-ts  of  the 
city,  we  rode  through  what  seemed  more  like  the  green 
country  lanes  of  England  than  city  streets.  There  are 
miles  of  gardens,  or  rather  of  orchards,  surrounding  the 
city  on  every  side.  The  apricot  and  the  pomegi'anate  were 
in  blossom.  OUves  were  in  great  abundance,  interspersed 
with  walnuts ;  and  groves  of  jDoplar,  which  is  a  favorite 
wood.  We  think  it  a  soft  wood,  but  they  find  it  hardy 
(perhaps  it  is  a  different  species),  and  as  it  grows  rapidly, 
it  serves  their  purpose  better  than  any  other  tree,  and 
whole  forests  of  it  are  grown  for  timber. 

I  was  disappointed  in  the  situation  of  Damascus.  I  had 
thought  it  lay  in  a  deej)  valley  ;  but  it  lies  in  a  plain, 
although  at  the  foot  of  mountains,  from  which  it  has 
the  appeai-ance  of  a  broad  valley.  The  traveller  who 
approaches  it  from  the  west  wiU  get  his  first  sight  of  it 
from  the  range  of  Anti-Lebanon,  and  as  he  looks  down 
upon  it  the  view  is  much  more  imposing  than  if  he 
approached  from  the  plain.  A  day  or  two  after  our 
arrival,  we  rode  out  of  the  city,  and  ascended  the  hills  on 
the  west  to  get  this  view.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon, 
and  the  sun  was  sinking  behind  the  mountains,  and  threw 
his  last  rays  across  the  plain  below,  gilding  the  domes  and 
minarets  of  the  great  city.  Here  we  could  understand  how 
Mahomet,  standing,  according  to  the  tradition,  near  this 


DIMITKI'S    CASTLE.  193 

very  spot,  should  gaze  and  turn  away,  saving  that  God  had 
promised  to  man  but  one  Paradise,  and  he  would  not,  by 
entering  this  on  earth,  endanger  the  loss  of  that  in  heaven. 

But  we  are  now  riding  into  the  city,  under  the  shade 
of  trees,  by  garden  walls,  and  along  the  borders  of 
streams,  which  at  every  step  remind  us  of  what  has  cre- 
ated all  this  Paradise  :  it  is  water  bubbling  up  in  foun- 
tains, and  flowing  in  rivers,  giving  perpetual  freshness  to 
trees  and  grass  and  flowers,  so  that  the  city  is  literally  set 
in  a  sea  of  verdure. 

Thus  riding  on  through  a  succession  of  streets,  we 
come  to  a  gate  which  might  be  that  of  a  fortress  or  a 
prison,  so  massive  is  it  with  wood  and  iron,  nailed  to- 
gether with  heavy  spikes.  In  this  grim  portal  is  an 
opening  a  foot  or  two  above  the  ground,  and  some  four 
feet  square,  thi'ough  which  an  outsider  can  gaiii  admit- 
tance only  by  stooping.  The  gate  was  evidently  contrived 
in  view  of  possible  dangers,  when  it  might  be  necessary 
to  barricade  the  entrance,  and  conveii:  the  interior  into 
a  fortress.  "We  bent  our  heads,  like  captives  passing 
under  the  yoke,  and  lifting  our  feet  over  the  barrier 
below,  found  oiu'selves  in  the  outer  court  of  Dimitri's 
Hotel,  the  famous  hostehy  of  Damascus.  It  was  evidently 
a  composite  structiu*e,  made  up  of  several  different  houses. 
To  reach  my  room,  I  not  only  mounted  a  staircase,  but 
passed  along  a  cori'idor  and  over  a  roof  into  another  house, 
which  had  been  added  to  furnish  more  space  for  guests. 
It  was  the  house  of  a  Moslem  :  for  the  room  was  fiu-nished 
with  the  lattices  to  the  window  always  drawn  around  the 
hareem,  through  which  the  inmates  can  look  without  being 
seen.  Thus  put  together  piecemeal,  the  hotel  is  a  ram- 
bling old  barrack,  but  still  pleasant  enough  inside,  when 
one  is  in  its  open  coiai,  listening  to  the  gentle  plash  of 
its  fountain,  and  inhaUng  the  fragrance  of  its  orange  trees. 


194  RAMBLE    THROUGH    TIIK    CITY. 

But  sweeter  than  orange  blossoms  or  miuTiiuiing  foun- 
tain, is  the  face  of  a  fiiend.  I  did  not  know  a  soul  in 
Damascus,  and  yet  I  had  not  been  in  that  court  five 
minutes  before  I  heard  my  name  from  the  lips  of  a 
stranger.  A  stranger,  and  yet  not  a  stranger  :  for  he  "was 
an  American  and  a  missionary — Rev.  Mr,  Crawford,  who 
gave  me  a  warm  grasp  of  the  hand.  The  sense  of  loneli- 
ness was  gone.  From  that  moment,  during  our  stay  in 
Damascus,  he  devoted  himself  to  our  comfort.  After 
tailing  me  to  the  postofl&ce  and  the  telegi'aph  office  (which 
are  always  the  first  calls  to  be  made  in  a  strange  city),  he 
kindly  ofiered  to  help  us  thi-ough  the  serious  business  of  a 
traveller,  and  under  his  lead  Dr.  Adams  and  myself  set  out 
the  same  afternoon  on  a  tour  of  exploration.  There  is  no 
city  in  the  world  where  one  needs  a  guide  more  than  in 
Damascus :  for  its  arrangement  of  streets  is  so  intricate 
and  involved,  with  so  many  twists  and  turns,  vending 
about  here  and  there  in  lanes  and  labyrinths,  that  a 
stranger  would  be  hopelessly  lost.  Like  most  travellers, 
we  tried  to  "  get  our  bearings,"  and  form  some  idea  of  the 
geography  of  the  city  by  going  first  to  "  the  street  called 
Straight,"  which  we  found  to  be  very  crooked  ;  yet  it  is  not 
difficult  to  reconcile  its  present  appearance  with  its  early 
name.  At  the  beginning  it  was  indeed  a  broad  avenue  a 
mile  long,  running  quite  through  the  city,  fi'om  the  eastern 
to  the  western  gate,  and  lined  with  columns  thi'ough  its 
whole  extent.  But  in  time  the  habits  of  Eastern  i)eople 
encroached  on  one  side  and  the  other  ;  it  was  crowded 
upon  by  shops  till  the  street  thus  invaded  on  both  sides 
was  squeezed  into  a  very  small  space  ;  and  as  the  projec- 
tions were  by  no  means  kept  in  a  straight  line,  it  has  come 
to  be  as  full  of  nooks  and  angles  and  corners  as  any  street 
in  the  oldest  quarter  of  London  or  Paris. 

Of  splendid  architecture  Damascus  has  none.    By  those 


NO    SPLENDID  ARCHITECTURE.  195 

who  receive  their  impressions  of  Oriental  cities  from  the 
Tales  of  the  Arabian  Nights,  it  is  sometimes  confovmded 
with  the  capital  of  the  magnificent  Haroun  al  Raschid,  and 
looked  upon  as  a  city  of  "  pleasui'es  and  palaces  " — a  gor- 
geous Oriental  dream.  It  is  a  dream,  and  only  a  dream — a 
mirage  of  the  deseii;,  which  fades  away  as  we  approach  it. 
In  aU  Damascus  I  did  not  see  a  single  specimen  of  fine 
Saracenic  architecture,  of  that  airy  lightness  and  gi'ace 
which  one  may  see  in  the  mosques  of  Cairo  or  Constan- 
tinople, in  the  Alhambra  of  Spain,  or  the  mausoleums  and 
palaces  of  the  Great  Mogul  in  Agi-a  and  Delhi.  The 
Great  Mosque  is  indeed  venerable  for  its  antiquity,  and 
imposing  fi'om  its  vastness,  as  it  rises  above  the  wide 
stretch  of  flat  roofs,  which  we  looked  down  upon  from 
the  top  of  its  tallest  minaret ;  and  the  Citadel  shows  its 
front  of  battered  walls,  huge  and  grim ;  but  such  stnic- 
tures  do  not  make  a  city  beautiful.  There  are  a  few  showy 
houses  of  rich  Jews,  to  which  the  stranger  is  taken,  where 
one  finds  always  the  same  general  construction — an  inte- 
rior court,  paved  with  marble,  siuToiinded  by  monoto- 
nous square  rooms,  lined  with  luxiuious  divans,  on  which 
the  master  can  recline  in  the  heat  of  the  day,  and  smoke 
his  nai'ghileh,  soothed  by  the  mirrmui'  of  the  fountain  in 
the  court.  But  these  are  in  fact,  if  not  in  name,  mere 
Summer-houses ;  there  is  no  provision  for  the  rigor  of 
Winter,  no  open  fire  to  blaze  when  the  winds  howl  and  the 
snows  fall  on  the  heights  of  Lebanon,  nor  any  of  those 
comforts  which  are  to  be  found  in  the  homes  of  England 
and  of  America. 

But  if  we  do  not  find  magnificence,  we  may  at  least  find 
that  which  is  curious  and  quaint  and  old,  and  so  we  plunge 
again  into  the  ^alderness  of  streets,  "winding  and  wandering 
for  hours,  tiU  we  lose  aU  the  points  of  the  compass,  and  are  as 
much  at  sea  as  if  we  had  been  in  the  middle  of  the  Atlantic 


196  AN    INDESCRIBABLE    CriT. 

Ocean.  We  are  in  a  state  in  "which  we  have  conformed 
literally  to  the  patriotic  injunction  given  to  Americans — to 
"  know  no  North,  no  South,  no  East,  no  West."  How  then 
can  I  describe  Damascus?  How  describe  the  indescrib- 
able? How  give  shape  to  that  which  shape  hath  none? 
How  give  a  clear  and  intelligil)le  outline  of  that  which  has 
been  put  together  after  no  plan  or  architectural  design  ; 
which  has  no  centre  from  which  its  streets  radiate,  no 
squares  or  circles  or  crescents  ?  But  there  is  nothing  like 
the  conceit  of  a  traveller.  After  the  first  day,  when  I  had 
one  or  two  points  fixed  in  mind,  I  thought  I  could  make  my 
way  alone  ;  and  coming  back  by  IVIr,  Crawford's  house,  was 
about  to  take  my  leave  to  return  to  the  hotel.  He  ofiered 
to  send  his  son  with  me,  but  I  declined,  thinking  it  was  not 
necessarj^,  and  that  I  could  find  my  way  through  the 
streets,  "  Try  it,"  he  said  with  a  smile  ;  but  he  knew  too 
well  to  let  me  try  it,  and  insisted  on  sending  a  guide,  who 
led  me  by  the  shortest  cut,  but  yet  by  such  winding  streets 
that  before  we  reached  Dimitri's,  I  was  as  much  lost  as  if  I 
had  been  in  an  African  forest. 

This  bewilderment  is  apt  to  confuse  a  stranger,  so  that 
his  first  impression  of  Damascus  is  not  one  of  enchant- 
ment. But  after  a  day  or  two,  he  finds  something  fascinat- 
ing in  the  musty  old  city,  where  even  darkness  and  dirt 
are  relieved  by  glimpses  of  color  which  light  up  the  gloom 
of  its  decay.  There  is  an  endless  pictiiresqueness  in  the 
costumes  of  the  people,  in  their  snow}'  turbans  and  flowing 
robes,  beside  which  an  American  in  his  sober  suit  of  black 
looks  like  an  undertaker.  The  little  narrow  streets  are  full 
of  life  and  activity.  The  sound  of  the  artificers  is  heard 
under  the  long  arcades.  The  workers  in  brass  are  here, 
whose  curiously-wrought  shields  or  trays  remind  me  of 
those  of  Benares.  Travellers  of  a  military-  turn  may  grat- 
ify their  tastes  with  Damascus  blades  or  suits  of  old  armor. 


THE    BAZAAKS    OF    DAMASCUS.  197 

Those  who  have  become  so  Oriental  in  their  habits  as  to 
pass  much  of  Hfe  in  smokinp;',  will  find  richly-jewelled  pipes 
with  amber  mouthpieces  ;  while  the  ladies  of  a  party  are 
sure  to  be  attracted  by  the  many-colored  silks.     Altof^ether 
the  bazaars  of  Damascus  are  as  fascinating  as  those  of 
Cairo  or  Constantinople,  and  over  one  and  all  might  be 
written  :  "Whoso   would   shun   temptation,   let   him   not 
enter  here ! "     I  thought  I  showed  a  Koman  firmness  in 
resisting  the  wiles  of  the  adversary  ;  but  when  I  was  lured 
into  the  old  khans,  where  Persian  rugs  are  unrolled  to  the 
eye  of  the  Western  barbarian,  my  resolution   gave  way. 
Six  years  before  I  had  bought  nine  rugs  in  Cairo,  which  I 
carried  across  the  Atlantic  as  the  spoils  of  Eg^'pt  ;  and 
now  to  make  it  even,  I  had  to  take  an  equal  number  fi'om 
Damascus.     To  be  sure,  I  might  have  bought  the  same  in 
New  York  ;  but  there  was  a  certain  satisfaction  not  only  in 
having  them  from  the  East,  but  in  bupng  them  in  the 
East,  and  in  being  able  to  trace  them  back  to  where  they 
were  made,  in  the  far  interior  of  Turkistan.     Think  of  the 
pleasure  of  having  under  one's  writing-table,  as  a  rest  for  his 
feet,  a  rug  that  has  been  woven  in  Khorassan,  and  brought 
on  the  back  of  a  camel  across  the  desert  from  Bagdad ! 

Of  historical  associations  no  Oriental  city  has  more 
than  Damascus.  It  boasts  of  being  the  oldest  city  in  the 
world.  Indeed,  to  make  a  "  clean  business  "  of  the  matter, 
it  points  to  the  red  soil  of  this  Plain  as  the  very  dust  of 
the  earth  of  which  Adam  was  created !  Leaving  the 
Damascenes  to  amuse  themselves  with  such  fancies,  we 
find  the  city  spoken  of  in  the  Scriptures  as  early  as  the 
time  of  Abraham,  "  the  steward  of  whose  house  was  Ehezer 
of  Damascus."  Among  the  localities  sacred  alike  to  Jews, 
Moslems,  and  Christians,  is  the  place  where  stood  the  house 
of  Naaman,  now  fitly  occupied  by  a  hospital  for  lepers, 
since  "  he  was  a  leper." 


198  DAMASCUS    ONCE  A  CHRISTIAN    CITY. 

To  the  Cliristian  visitor  Damascus  has  a  special  interest 
from  its  connection  with  the  conversion  of  St.  Paul.  That 
his  conversion  took  place  at  Damascus,  is  unquestioned  ; 
but  that  is  not  sufficient  for  devout  beUevors  :  they  must 
identify  every  locality  with  a  mathematical  precision.  As 
we  approached  the  city,  we  passed  a  church  and  convent 
which  are  said  to  mark  the  very  spot  where  the  Apostle 
was  struck  down  by  lip^ht  from  heaven,  and  heard  a  voice 
asking  "  "\Miy  persecutest  thou  me  ? "  Within  the  city, 
]\Ir.  Crawford  took  us  to  the  house  of  Ananias,  the  scene  of 
Paul's  conversion.  All  that  remains  of  the  house  is  the  cel- 
lai',  in  which  is  an  altar,  at  which  those  who  are  overcome  by 
the  association  can  kneel  and  say  their  prayers.  Outside 
of  the  walls  the  place  is  sho-svn  where  the  fugitive  was  let 
down  in  a  basket. 

Damascus  was  for  centuries  a  Christian  city.  The  Great 
Mosque,  hke  that  of  St.  Sophia  in  Constantinople,  was  orig- 
inally a  Christian  church.  But  time  brought  revolution. 
The  scholar  who  studies  the  history  of  Christianity  in  the 
East,  is  sometimes  tempted  to  ask  whether  it  was  for  the 
corruption  of  the  Eastern  chiu'ches  that  a  voice  was  at  last 
heard  in  the  holy  place,  as  in  the  Temple  before  the 
destruction  of  Jerusalem,  sajdng.  Let  us  go  hence  ?  At 
last  the  spoiler  came.  But  the  importance  of  Damascus 
was  in  one  way  increased  by  the  Mohammedan  conquest, 
as  it  became  the  residence  of  the  CaHj)hs  ;  although  it  re- 
tained the  Caliphate  less  than  a  century — from  673  to  7G2 — 
when  it  was  removed  to  Bagdad.  But  Damascus  contin- 
ued a  great  seat  of  Moslem  power.  Somewhat  of  the  feel- 
ing of  awe  that  one  has  at  the  tomb  of  Napoleon  or  of 
Frederick  the  Great,  one  has  at  the  tomb  of  Saladin,  the 
worthy  antagonist  of  CcBur  de  Lion.  Here  in  Damascus 
they  keep  his  dust,  in  a  mausoleum  close  by  the  Great 
Mosque,  as  England  keeps  the  ashes  of  Wellington  and  of 


MOSLEM    FANATICISM.  199 

Nelson  under  the  dome  of  St.  Paul's.  No  wonder  that  his 
tomb  is  a  shrine  for  the  faithful,  as  it  was  his  mailed  hand 
that  finally  struck  down  the  Crusaders,  and  gave  to  Islam 
the  undisputed  mastery  of  the  East  for  more  than  a  thou- 
sand years.  Now  that  his  name  has  ceased  to  be  the  terror 
of  Christendom,  we  can  do  justice  to  his  memory-.  He  was 
not  only  a  gi-eat  military  chieftain,  but  a  great  ruler — at 
home  in  affairs  of  state  as  at  the  head  of  his  anny  ;  with  a 
strong  sense  of  justice,  which  restrained  the  fanaticism  of 
his  soldiers,  and  led  him,  when  a  conqueror,  to  treat  his 
enemies  with  chivalrous  magnanimity. 

In  later  centuries  the  importance  of  Damascus  has 
diminished.  After  the  conquest  of  Constantinople,  the 
Caliphate  was  removed  far  from  both  Damascus  and  Bag- 
dad, to  the  shores  of  the  Bosphorus.  But  still  Damascus  re- 
mains one  of  the  centres  of  Islam,  where  the  Moslem  spirit 
survives  in  its  intensity.  It  is  a  furnace  of  Moslem  fanat- 
icism, of  which  it  gave  a  teiTible  exhibition  less  than  a 
quarter  of  a  century  ago.  In  the  year  1860  its  popu- 
lation were  greatly  excited  by  the  murderous  conflict  in 
the  Lebanon  between  the  Druses  and  the  Maronites — an 
excitement  which  rose  to  such  a  pitch  that  it  broke  out 
in  one  of  the  bloodiest  massacres  of  modern  times.  For 
three  days  the  city  was  given  up  to  murder,  and  no  less 
than  twenty-five  hundred  Christians,  chiefly  heads  of  fami- 
lies, were  slain  in  cold  blood ! 

IMr.  Crawford  took  us  to  see  a  venerable  old  man,  who 
still  bears  the  marks  of  sword  cuts  on  his  face,  and  who 
escaped  almost  by  a  miracle.  Dr.  Meshaka  (father  of  the 
young  physician  whose  skill  we  had  tried)  was  a  quarter  of 
a  centm-y  ago  one  of  the  most  eminent  of  the  Christians  of 
Damascus,  and  hence  was  singled  out  as  one  of  the  first 
objects  of  attack ;  but  though  wounded,  he  was  not  killed, 
but  thrown  into  prison,  apparently  to  be   reserved,  as  a 


200  THE   MASSACRE    OF   1860. 

distinguished  victim,  for  a  more  deliberate  doom.  From 
this  terrible  fate  he  was  saved  only  by  the  intrepidity  of 
Abdel  Kader,  who  has  for  many  years  resided  in  Damas- 
cus. These  two  men,  though  one  a  Chi-istian  and  the 
other  a  Moslem,  had  yet  been  attracted  to  each  other  by  a 
certain  nobleness  in  both,  and  had  been  fast  fiiends ;  and 
when  the  rumor  came — or  it  may  have  been  only  a  sus- 
picion, a  fear  or  presentiment — that  his  friend  was  in  peiil, 
he  flew  to  the  rescue.  Hastening  to  the  authorities,  he 
demanded  to  know  where  he  was.  They  denied  that  he 
was  in  their  power.  But  they  were  dealing  with  one 
whom  the}'  could  not  deceive.  The  old  lion  rose  with  a 
fury  that  could  not  be  resisted.  That  imperious  tem- 
per, which  gave  him  such  power  over  the  tribes  of  the 
desert,  cowed  the  assassins  of  Damascus,  and  they  revealed 
the  secret  of  the  place  of  confinement,  and  conducted  him 
to  it,  opened  the  doors,  and  Abdel  Kader  fell  into  the 
arms  of  his  friend,  whom  he  at  once  took  under  his  own 
protection,  and  conducted  to  a  place  of  safety.  Seldom 
has  history  recorded  a  more  touching  instance  of  fidelity 
in  friendship  between  men  of  different  races  and  different 
rehgions.  Nothing  was  ever  told  of  Abdel  Kader  more  to 
his  honor.  And  now  the  venerable  old  man  whom  he 
saved  from  massacre,  we  saw  in  the  midst  of  his  family,  in 
safety  and  in  peace.  We  found  him  reading  his  Bible  ;  he 
asked  Mr.  Crawford  about  the  meaning  of  certain  pas- 
sages. He  had  passed  the  limit  of  fovu'-score  (he  was 
eighty-four  years  of  age),  and  was  waiting,  like  an  old 
saint,  till  his  change  should  come. 

This  massacre  would  have  ended  in  the  extermination 
of  the  Christian  population  of  Damascus,  had  not  the 
Turkish  authorities,  who  were  supposed  to  have  encour- 
aged the  first  outbreak,  become  alarmed,  and  found  it 
necessary  to  put  a  stop  to  the  shedding  of  blood ;  and 


THE   MASSACRE  AVENGED.  201 

after  the  slaughter  had  continued  three  days,  they  took 
families  that  had  been  decimated  into  the  castle  for  pro- 
tection. Here  Mr.  Crawford  saw  fifteen  thousand  poor 
creatures,  in  terror  lest  the  gates  should  be  thrown  open 
and  they  be  given  into  the  hands  of  murderers,  as  had 
been  done  at  Der-el-Kamai*,  where  the  Christian  population 
was  first  disai-med  by  the  Turks,  and  then  left  unprotected 
to  the  fury  of  the  Druses,  by  whom  twelve  hundred  were 
inhumanly  massacred ! 

This  ten-ible  outrage  was  not  unavenged.  It  sent  a 
thiill  of  horror  throughout  Europe,  and  French  troops  were 
speedily  landed  in  Beirut.  This  stirred  the  Turkish  author- 
ities to  do  something,  if  they  would  not  have  the  work  of 
punishment  taken  out  of  their  hands.  One  morning,  as  IVIr. 
Crawford  came  into  the  streets  of  Damascus,  he  saw  eight 
of  the  ringleaders  hanging  from  the  projecting  beams  of 
as  many  houses.  Sixty-five  were  hanged  that  day,  while  a 
hundred  and  ten  belonging  to  the  army  were  shot,  among 
whom  was  the  Pasha  of  the  city.  By  such  prompt  justice 
an  end  was  put  to  these  bloody  scenes  ;  but  the  passion 
and  fury  were  only  checked,  not  destroyed  :  the  fire  is  still 
smouldering  in  the  ashes,  ready  to  break  out  again  with 
any  fresh  excitement.  In  the  late  war  in  Egypt  there  was 
a  restless  feeling  among  the  population  of  Damascus,  which 
was  apparent  to  the  eye  of  every  foreigner.  The  Christians 
felt  that  they  were  again  in  danger — a  danger  that  was 
averted  only  by  the  EngHsh  victory  at  Tel-el-Kebir,  and 
the  entire  coUapse  of  the  movement  of  Arabi  Pasha. 

While  thus  kept  in  wholesome  restraint  by  the  terror 
of  English  arms,  Islam  is  comparatively  a  harmless  thing  ; 
its  chief  manifestation  of  life  being  in  the  great  pageant  of 
the  annual  pilgrimage  to  Mecca.  This  is  the  event  of  the 
year  in  the  Moslem  calendar.  A  procession  such  as  can 
be   formed  only  in  the  East,  of  thousands  moimted  on 


202  TlIK   PILGRIMAGE   TO    MECCA. 

camels,  files  slowly  tlirough  the  city  amid  the  enthusiasm 
of  its  inhabitants,  and  streaming  out  of  a  gate  which  beai'S 
the  sacred  name  of  the  Gate  of  God,  commences  its  long 
journey  towards  Mecca.  Forty  days  does  it  keep  on  its 
march,  which,  with  the  days  spent  in  devotion  at  the  tomb 
of  the  prophet,  and  the  forty  days  of  return,  make  fully 
thi'ee  months  consumed  in  this  holy  pilgrimage,  which  is 
the  great  event  of  the  pilgiims'  lives. 

What  is  to  be  the  future  of  Damascus  ?  Shall  it  have 
no  future  save  one  of  gradual  decadence  ?  What  is  to 
become  of  these  old  Oriental  towns  and  decaying  civili- 
zations? Of  course  Damascus  will  long  continue  to  exist 
on  the  face  of  the  earth.  There  wUl  always  be  a  city  in 
this  Plain,  -whose  natural  fertility  will  support  a  large  pop- 
tdation  ;  yet  the  city  may  decrease  while  others  increase, 
as  its  commerce  drifts  away  from  it  to  other  points  more 
accessible  to  the  trade  of  the  world.  New  lines  of  travel 
by  land  and  sea  will  cause  other  cities  to  spring  up  which 
will  cast  into  the  shade  a  city  that  lives  by  the  overland 
trade  of  the  desert.  Ships  and  steamers  and  raih-oad  trains 
will  take  the  place  of  slow-moving  caravans ;  and  though 
Damascus  will  still  exist,  it  will  not  be  the  Damascus  of  old. 

This  gradual  fading  away  of  life  seems  to  be  typified  in 
the  way  in  which  the  waters  which  create  Damascus  sud- 
denly disappear.  They  do  not  flow  on  to  create  other 
cities,  but  sink  into  the  earth.  It  is  a  singular  geographi- 
cal fact  that  neither  the  Abana  nor  the  Phai*par  extends 
beyond  the  Plain  of  Damascus.  About  twenty  miles  fi-om 
the  city,  they  lose  themselves  in  a  marshy  lake  which  has 
no  outlet,  but  melts  away  in  the  sandy  waste,  so  that  at 
that  line  verdure  and  vegetation  disappear,  while  far  in 
the  distance  stretches  the  vast  Syrian  desert.  Is  there  not 
in  this  something  typical  of  these  Oriental  civilizations, 
■which  have  no  force  to  flow  beyond  a  narrow  bound,  or  to 


FUTURE    OF    DAMASCUS.  203 

civilize  any  desert  portion  of  the  earth  ;  and  of  this  ancient 
city  which  dates  its  existence,  according  to  its  credidous 
inhabitants,  from  the  father  of  the  human  race  ?  Damascus 
has  had  a  great  name  in  history  :  but  its  greatness  is  a 
thing  of  the  past  ;  and  in  the  coming  centuries,  though 
it  may  still  live  in  the  imagination  of  the  world  with  the 
city  of  the  Arabian  Nights,  its  brightness  will  be  only  that 
of  a  splendid  vision,  gHttering,  yet  fading,  on  the  horizon 
of  the  East. 


CHAPTER  XVn. 
OVER  ANTI-LEBANOX THE    MOUNTAIN  VALLEYS. 

Mahomet  turned  liis  back  on  Damascus  before  he 
entered  it,  but  we  after  entering  it  and  abiding  in  it  three 
days  ;  and  herein,  with  all  respect  for  the  prophet,  I  think 
we  are  the  wiser,  for  though  it  is  a  quaint  and  picturesque 
old  city,  we  do  not  find  it  so  enchanting  as  to  take  away 
our  desire  for  the  heavenly  Paradise,  and  are  able  to  take 
oui"  last  look  of  it  with  a  tranquil  mind.  The  horses  are 
standing,  saddled  and  bridled,  at  the  gate,  in  front  of  which 
is  a  rabble  collected  to  see  the  strangers  depart,  expecting 
perchance  that  the  munificent  Howadjis  will  rain  back- 
sheesh on  the  stones  of  the  street.  One  by  one  we  put 
our  heads  through  the  saUy-port  of  Dimitri's  Hotel,  and 
mount  for  the  day,  departing  as  we  came,  along  the  bank 
of  one  of  the  canals  that  bring  the  Abana  into  the  city, 
and  thus  having  the  same  pleasant  sound  of  waters  for  our 
welcome  and  farewell.  Crossing  a  bridge,  we  turn  west- 
ward over  the  great  macadamized  road  to  Beirut.  As  soon 
as  we  touch  it  we  come  in  contact  with  civilization.  In  all 
Palestine  there  is  not  a  carriage  road,  except  the  poor 
afiair  fi'om  Jaffa  to  Jerusalem  ;  but  here  is  a  highway  as 
magnificent  as  any  in  Eiu'ope.     Of  course  such  a  road  was 


A  HIGHWAY  TO    THE    SEA.  205 

never  built  by  the  people  of  this  country,  nor  by  their 
government.  It  is  from  beginning  to  end  the  work  of 
French  engineers  and  French  capital.  The  task  was  one 
of  great  engineering  difficulty,  for  the  road  had  to  cross 
two  ranges  of  mountains,  Lebanon  and  Anti-Lebanon, 
winding  up  and  down  their  steep  ascents  and  descents ; 
but  over  all  inequaUties  it  was  carried,  and  made  as  com- 
pact and  firm  to  the  very  tops  of  the  mountains  as  the 
Simplon  or  any  of  the  roads  built  by  French  or  Swiss  or 
Itahan  engineers  over  the  Alps.  By  this  great  highway 
Beirut  and  the  sea,  which  were  four  or  five  days  distant 
by  caravan,  are  brought  within  thii-teen  hours  of  Damas- 
cus. This  indeed  was  biinging  Western  civilization  into 
the  heart  of  the  East  :  it  seemed  as  if  we  were  in  a  city  of 
France,  when  we  saw  French  diligences  rumbling  into  the 
ancient  city  of  Damascus.  Such  a  peaceful  invasion  of 
the  country  ought  not  to  alarm  Arabs  or  Tiu'ks  ;  and  yet 
no  doubt  the  road  had  a  military  pui*pose,  as  it  was  con- 
structed after  the  massacres  of  1860,  which  showed  Europe 
that  it  might  become  necessary  for  Christian  powers  to 
interj)ose  against  any  future  outbreaks  of  Moslem  fanat- 
icism, when  this  would  serve  as  a  military  road  by  which 
troops  could  be  conveyed  swiftly  to  Damascus.  It  makes 
European  residents  more  comfortable  to  think  that  France 
and  England  are  thus  brought  so  near  to  a  city  whose 
streets  not  so  long  ago  ran  with  Christian  blood. 

Had  we  cared  for  speed,  the  dihgence  would  have  con- 
veyed us  in  a  night  to  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean. 
But  preferring  a  more  dehberate  jotu-ney  over  the  two  Leb- 
anons,  we  kept  to  oiu'  horses,  and  after  an  hour  and  a  haK 
on  the  French  road,  turned  to  the  right  and  began  to  climb 
the  lulls.  At  first  the  road  was  very  rough,  but  as  soon  as 
we  crossed  the  hills  we  struck  into  the  valley  of  the  Abana 
(I  prefer  the  good  old  Scripture  name  of  this  "  river  of 


20G  TIIK    FOUNTAIN    OF    TlIK  ABANA. 

Damascus,"  to  the  modem  name  of  Barada),  and  at  once 
came  into  a  region  of  mingled  wildness  and  beauty.  To 
be  sure  there  is  but  a  naiTOw  strip  of  verdure,  only  a  few- 
rods  in  breadth,  along  the  bank  of  the  river  ;  but  within 
that  space  trees  and  plants  of  every  kind  grow  with  almost 
tropical  profusion.  The  willows  flourish  by  the  water 
courses ;  and  not  willows  only,  but  the  fig  tree  and  the 
almond  tree,  the  apricot  and  the  pomegranate,  and  walnut 
trees  of  great  size,  and  whole  forests  of  poplar,  which  are 
grown  for  timber. 

Riding  along  such  shaded  paths  by  the  river  side,  we 
came  to  the  Fountain  of  the  Abana,  which,  Uke  the  Jordan 
at  Banias,  springs  out  of  the  heart  of  the  earth ;  and  like 
the  Jordan,  too,  had  its  source  honored  fi'om  the  earhest 
times  by  a  pagan  temple,  of  which  gi-eat  blocks  of  stone 
still  remain.  The  old  arch  which  spanned  it  is  broken, 
but  the  river  still  rushes  forth,  as  fresh  and  strong  as  when 
njTnphs  and  naiads  sported  in  its  waters.  We  hope  it 
does  not  disturb  the  gods  of  fountains  and  of  groves,  that 
this  sacred  stream  is  now  made  to  turn  a  saw-mill ! 

In  this  green  and  shaded  spot  we  spread  ovir  carpets 
under  the  trees,  and  rested  till  the  middle  of  the  afternoon, 
when  we  mounted  and  rode  up  the  valley — a  belt  of  living 
green,  made  more  beautiful  by  contrast  with  the  rugged 
mountains  on  either  hand,  which,  by  their  height  and 
color,  reminded  me  of  the  old  red  sandstone  and  red 
granite  of  Sinai.  The  whole  appearance  of  the  country 
would  have  been  as  bleak  and  dreary  as  the  desert  itself, 
were  it  not  for  this  element  of  life,  the  water,  which, 
springing  out  of  the  rocks,  and  forcing  its  way  through 
the  passes  of  the  mountains,  keeps  up  a  perpetual  warfare 
with  the  mighty  desolation. 

We  are  now  in  the  heart  of  the  range  of  Anti-Lebanon. 
Here  and  there  villages  are  sprinkled    among  the   hills, 


CAMP    IX  A  MOUNTAIN  VALLKY.  207 

whose  sides  are  terraced,  and  along  which  the  water  is 
carried  in  channels  for  irrigation.  Wherever  it  comes  the 
mountain  side  blooms  and  blossoms  at  its  touch.  The 
path  trodden  by  our  horses  was  very  narrow,  but  they 
picked  their  way  among  the  stones  with  careful  feet,  and 
we  had  no  shp  or  fall.  It  was  not  quite  five  o'clock  when 
we  came  suddenly  upon  our  camp.  The  pack  mules  had 
taken  another  road,  and  arrived  before  us.  Our  tents  were 
pitched  under  a  bank,  where  we  were  not  only  in  the 
shadow  of  hoary  mountains,  but  of  hoary  memories  as 
well.  On  yonder  hill  which  looks  down  upon  us,  is  the 
tomb  of  Abel!  How  his  body  was  recovered  after  the 
murder  by  Cain,  and  whether  it  was  brought  here  by 
Adam  and  Eve,  as  chief  mourners,  we  are  not  informed. 
Into  these  points  it  is  better  for  the  irreverent  spirit  not  to 
inqvdre  too  curiously. 

But  apart  from  this,  there  was  enough  in  this  quiet, 
peaceful  spot  to  woo  the  traveller.  TVe  were  camped  on 
one  side  of  a  valley,  on  the  other  side  of  which  was  a  little 
village,  with  the  mshing  Abana  between — one  of  those 
mountain  valleys  which  in  a  Catholic  country,  in  Italy  or 
Spain,  would  have  been  the  seat  of  a  convent  or  a  mon- 
astery, from  whose  tower  might  sound  the  Angelus  at 
sunset.  How  sweet  would  it  have  been  at  this  hour  to 
hear  the  vesper  bell  ringing  among  the  hOls  !  Here  there 
is  neither  church  nor  convent,  nor  even  a  mosque  with  its 
minaret.  Yet  this  place,  so  lonely,  bleak,  and  wild,  is  not 
forgotten  by  God,  nor  is  God  forgotten  by  his  childi-en. 
The  sun  is  just  going  down,  and  hark  from  the  village 
below,  from  the  top  of  one  of  the  houses,  I  hear  a  eoice 
which  I  never  fail  to  recognize — it  is  the  muezzin's  call  to 
prayer.  To  the  devout  Moslem  the  roof  of  a  house  is  as 
good  as  the  minaret  of  a  mosque.  It  had  a  strange,  weird 
effect,  heard  amid  the  silence  of  these   mountains.     And 


208  FOLLOWING   THE  ABANA. 

who  shall  say  that  the  offering  was  not  as  sincere  as  that 
which  ascends  from  Christian  lands  ?  Who  am  I  to  judge 
the  Moslem's  prayer?  "WTio  can  say  that  in  these  daily 
prostrations  there  is  not  much  of  the  true  spu'it  of  worship, 
and  that  the  prayers  are  not  heard  by  Him  who  is  the  God 
and  Father  of  all  mankind  ? 

This  little  incident  so  touched  me  that  it  was  with  a 
tender  feeling  that  I  turned  away  from  that  village  of  Suk, 
on  the  site  of  the  ancient  Abila,  the  next  morning,  and 
again  began  to  climb  the  mountains.  The  roads  were 
rough,  but  through  these  mountain  passes  the  Imperial 
people  hewed  their  way.  We  came  upon  the  remains  of 
a  Roman  road  and  a  Roman  aqueduct.  All  day  long  we 
followed  up  the  Abana  in  its  winding  coiu'se,  amid  the  oHve 
groves,  while  on  the  southern  slopes  plantations  of  mulber- 
ries reminded  us  of  a  sunnier  clime. 

As  we  had  not  a  long  march  to-day,  we  stopped  before 
noon,  tempted  by  the  beauty  of  a  spot  of  green  turf  under 
a  couple  of  grand  old  trees,  beside  a  sweet,  flowing  spring 
of  water,  where,  spreading  our  rugs  at  the  foot  of  the 
trees,  we  took  a  siesta  of  nearly  three  hom-s.  From  this 
resting  place  in  the  lap  of  the  hiUs,  we  looked  up  and  saw, 
a  thousand  feet  above  us,  peering  out  from  under  the  trees, 
the  mountain  \411age  of  Bludan,  a  favorite  retreat  from 
Damascus  during  the  heats  of  Summer,  to  which  the  Eng- 
Hsh  Consul  and  the  Enghsh  and  American  missionaries 
resort.  When  we  began  our  afternoon  ride,  for  half  an 
hour  we  were  scrambling  over  a  very  stony  road,  behind 
the  town  of  Zebedani,  and  at  the  entrance  of  one  of  the 
lovehest  plains  of  Syria — a  plain  which  is  ciiltivated  with 
that  careful  agriculture  which  one  sees  here  and  there 
in  the  East,  where  men  and  women  pick  out  every  weed 
from  the  fields  as  from  a  garden.  There  were  extensive 
orchards  of  apple  trees  in  blossom.      The  hillsides  were 


A  MOUNTAIN  VALLEY.  209 

covered  mth  vineyards,  in  which  I  obseiTed  that  it  was  a 
custom  of  the  people  to  lay  their  vines  on  the  f^Tonnd,  per- 
haps to  avoid  the  strong  mountain  winds,  and  also  to  get 
fi'om  this  close  contact  with  the  earth  more  moisture  dvir- 
ing  the  hot  season,  when  there  are  no  heavy  rains  to  kill 
the  vines  with  damp  and  bhght. 

At  about  three  o'clock  we  crossed  the  water-shed  of  the 
Anti-Lebanon  range.  We  had  reached  the  last  of  the 
sources  of  the  Abana,  and  henceforth  the  streams  flow  to 
the  west,  in  their  course  to  the  Mediterranean  Sea.  An 
hoiu'  later  we  camped  in  another  mountain  valley,  as  fresh 
and  green  as  one  could  see  in  merry  England  in  the  month 
of  May.  To  be  sure,  we  are  here  ia  the  best  season  of 
the  year.  When  the  Summer  comes,  much  of  this  beau- 
tiful landscape  will  be  dry  and  withered,  biu-nt  up  with 
the  terrible  heat  ;  while  England,  watered  with  continual 
rains,  keeps  its  fi-eshness  through  the  jeax.  But  for  the 
time  one  could  hardly  see  more  of  beauty  in  an}'  valley 
of  Wales  or  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland.  From  the  door 
of  my  tent  I  look  across  the  vaUey,  perhaps  a  mile  wide, 
to  a  mountain  which  is  cultivated  nearly  to  the  top.  It  is 
not  all  green  :  for  the  variety  of  jcrops  gives  it  a  variety  of 
color.  But  there  is  a  marked  contrast  in  the  two  sides  of 
the  vaUey.  On  our  own,  behind  our  tents,  rise  mountains 
of  rock,  with  scarcely  a  particle  of  verdure,  save  here  and 
there  a  stunted  bush,  while  on  a  farther  range  lie  large 
patches  of  snow.  Yet  even  here,  scattered  among  the 
rocks,  are  goats  picking  the  scanty  herbage.  I  see  a  flock 
quite  high  up  on  the  side  of  a  mountain.  At  evening 
they  are  driven  down  to  the  \-illage  beside  which  we  are 
camped,  to  be  milked  and  to  be  sheltered  for  the  night. 
Here  they  come,  followed  by  a  troop  of  girls,  aU  in  white, 
who  have  been  watching  them  through  the  day,  as  Rachel 
and  Rebecca  tended  their  flocks,  and  now  bring  them 


210  A  MOUNTAIN  VALLEY. 

home.  Across  the  valley  I  hear  the  voices  of  children 
singing,  and  at  sunset  appears  the  prettiest  of  all  rural 
pictures — children  driving  in  the  cows,  which  come  from 
the  valley,  as  the  goats  come  from  the  mountain.  At  the 
moment  perhaps  every  one  of  us  recalled,  as  one  at  least 
repeated,  the  line  of  Kingsley  : 

"  Mary,  go  and  call  the  cattle  home ! " 

Such  are  bright  pictures  in  all  lands,  whether  in  Syria  or 
Scotland  or  Switzerland,  in  the  valleys  of  the  Lebanon  or 
the  Alps. 

Few  things  in  our  journey  have  given  me  more  exqui- 
site pleasure  than  these  valleys  of  Anti-Lebanon.  Beauti- 
ful in  the  rich  verdure  of  the  Spring-time,  their  beauty  is 
enhanced  by  being  set  in  a  frame  of  mountains.  As  in  the 
Swiss  valleys,  the  intense  green  is  heightened  by  contrast 
with  the  rocks  and  pines,  and  with  the  majestic  and  awful 
forms  of  nature  :  so  do  the  mountains  of  Lebanon,  on 
which  the  snow  is  still  lying,  look  down  on  the  loveliest  of 
vales.  Beauty  goes  hand  in  hand  with  plenty.  It  is  a 
region  of  abundance,  at  least  for  the  simple  wants  of  the 
people.  It  is  a  relief  to  the  eye  to  see  so  much  comfort 
and  content  here  in  the  East,  where  we  are  so  often  pained 
by  the  sight  of  poverty  and  misery. 

And  the  people  seem  to  be  not  only  happy,  but  kindly. 
I  know  that  the  tribes  of  the  Lebanon  have  a  reputation 
for  being  fierce  and  warlike,  as  they  showed  themselves  in 
the  war  that  was  waged  in  these  mountains  between  the 
Druses  and  the  Maronites.  But  now  they  had  nothing  to 
excite  them,  and  to  us  they  seemed  to  be  a  very  simple 
folk.  They  are  not  only  simple,  but  credvdous  and  super- 
stitious. When  we  anived  here,  ]VIi*s.  Adams's  horse  was 
found  to  be  iU.  Floyd  sent  for  a  village  doctor,  who, 
although  he  prescribed  for  the  poor  creature,  thought  the 


A  SIMPLE  AND    KINDLY  PEOPLE.  211 

beast  bewitched  by  some  one  who  had  looked  upon  it  with 
an  evil  eye,  and  burnt  rags  and  broke  crockery  before  it  to 
exorcise  the  evil  spirit !  But  we  can  forgive  such  follies 
to  those  who  are  kind  at  heart ;  and  such  they  seemed  to 
be,  ready  to  respond  to  any  act  of  civility.  I  never  touch 
my  hat  to  one — or  rather  my  breast  and  forehead,  accord- 
ing to  the  Oriental  custom — without  ha\ing  the  salutation 
returned.  If  I  chance  to  be  walking  by  the  river  side, 
and  meet  an  old  movmtaineer,  and  put  out  my  hand  to  him, 
his  face  lights  up  with  a  friendly  glow,  and  we  regret  the 
want  of  language  that  prevents  a  freer  expression  of  our 
mutual  good  will. 

One  cannot  but  feel  kindly  towards  such  a  people.  The 
next  morning  the  vOlagers  were  up  at  dayUght  milking  the 
cows  and  the  goats ;  and  as  we  opened  the  doors  of  our 
tents,  we  were  greeted  with  the  same  pretty  sight  as  on 
the  preceding  evening — flocks  and  herds  streaming  in 
every  direction  to  their  pastures  for  the  day,  the  cows  to 
the  meadows  on  the  river's  bank,  and  the  goats  to  their 
perch  among  the  rocks  on  the  mountain  side,  both  followed 
by  troops  of  childi'en,  the  gentle  shepherds  of  this  simple 
pastoral  people.  Blessings  on  them  all !  Long  may  they 
live  among  these  mountains,  untouched  by  famine  :  above 
all,  in  peace  with  their  neighbors,  so  that  these  quiet  vales 
may  never  again  be  wet  with  blood  ! 

With  such  impressions  of  the  country  and  the  people, 
we  resumed  our  march.  Before  we  left  the  valley,  we 
passed  orchards  in  which  were  the  largest  apple  trees  that 
I  have  ever  seen,  covered  with  blossoms,  which  filled  the 
air  with  their  perfume.  For  two  or  three  hoTirs  we  were 
riding  through  a  gorge,  where  there  was  only  a  narrow 
path  beside  the  rushing  stream,  which  now  flows  west- 
ward, and  empties  into  the  sea  near  Sidon.  At  last  we 
left  the  narrow  pass,  and  struck  directly  up  a  very  high 


212  AVE    RKACII    BAALBEC. 

hill,  almost  a  mountain.  Just  before  we  reached  the  top, 
we  met  a  couple  of  men  heavily  armed,  one  apparently 
the  servant  of  the  other.  The  superior  was  remarkably 
gracious  and  coiuieous  in  his  greeting.  Floyd  said  he  was 
a  famous  bandit !  But  fiiend  or  foe,  we  had  hardly  time 
to  return  his  salaam  before  there  burst  upon  us  a  vision  of 
beauty  that  might  well  make  us  forget  the  wickedness  of 
man.  It  was  the  glory  of  Lebanon,  which  now  came  into 
full  view  on  the  other  side  of  what  we  knew  in  an  instant 
to  be  the  Valley  of  Coele-Syria — one  of  the  most  beautiful 
vallej's  in  the  East,  or  in  the  world. 

When  we  left  Damascus,  our  course  had  been  directly 
to  the  West ;  but  as  we  climbed  the  range  of  Anti-Lebanon, 
we  turned  gradually  to  the  North,  till  now,  as  we  descended 
the  slopes,  we  were  marching  straight  up  the  valley.  The 
ride  was  long,  as  we  tried  to  accomplish  the  distance  to 
Baalbec  in  a  single  march.  Had  we  divided  the  day,  and 
made  it  in  two  rides  instead  of  one,  it  would  have  been 
less  wearisome.  But  we  were  in  the  saddle,  without  rest- 
ing, for  six  hours.  Some  of  the  paiiy,  excited  by  the 
prospect  of  the  great  sight  before  us,  pricked  up  their 
horses,  while  I  lagged  behind,  keeping  company  with  the 
palanquin  of  IVIi's.  Winter  and  the  baggage  train.  At 
length  we  rose  over  a  low  hill,  and  saw  in  the  distance  the 
mighty  ruins  of  Baalbec,  and  in  another  hour  turned  into 
the  area  of  the  wondrous  pile,  and  passing  through  the 
long  subterranean  passage,  dismounted  in  front  of  the 
Temple  of  the  Sun,  and  sat  down  at  the  foot  of  columns 
whose  enormous  size  recalled  those  of  Kamak. 

And  3'et  we  were  so  fagged  out  by  the  day's  ride,  and 
by  the  whole  week  of  fatigue  in  Damascus  and  on  the 
mountains,  that  for  an  hour  we  were  more  occupied  with 
our  personal  wants  than  with  the  splendid  architecture 
around  us.      When  the  rugs  were  spread   on  the   great 


WEARIED    TRAVELLERS.  213 

porch,  we  crouched  upon  them  in  every  postiu'e  of  weari- 
ness, hiding  behind  the  pillars  to  screen  ourselves  from  the 
direct  rays  of  the  god  to  whom  the  Temple  was  dedicated. 
In  fi'ont  of  us  rose  the  six  Corinthian  columns  of  the  other 
and  still  greater  Temple,  whose  grace  and  beauty  have 
deUghted  so  many  generations  ;  and  yet  even  here  our 
enthusiasm  was  held  in  check  for  the  moment  by  hunger 
and  weariness,  which  sometimes  subdue  the  raptures  of 
poetry.  Pity  that  travellers  have  their  share — some  may 
think  more  than  their  share — of  such  infiiTaities  !  But  at 
last  hunger  was  satisfied,  and  fatigue  began  to  abate.  As 
soon  as  the  tents  were  pitched  in  the  grounds  of  the 
Temple,  we  threw  ourselves  on  oiu'  couches,  and  took  an 
hovir  or  two  of  rest,  after  which  all  weariness  was  gone, 
and  we  awakened  to  the  immensity  and  gi-andeiu'  around 
us,  and  began  to  realize  that  we  were  in  the  presence  of 
one  of  the  wonders  of  the  world. 


CHAPTEB  XVni. 

SABBATH    MUSINGS    IN    THE    RUINS    OF   BAALBEC. 

If  a  traveller,  when  lie  first  comes  to  Rome,  instead  of 
being  driven  to  a  modern  hotel,  could  be  permitted  to  pitch 
a  tent  in  the  Coliseum,  he  would  find  it  easier  to  realize 
the  grandeur  of  the  Imperial  city.  He  would  not  need  to 
go  to  history ;  history  wovdd  come  to  him  :  he  would  see 
it  in  the  mighty  walls  reared  eighteen  hundred  years  ago, 
within  which  were  crowded  a  hundred  thousand  spectators, 
and  be  a  witness  of  the  combats  of  lions  and  tigers,  and  of 
the  fights  of  gladiators.  Something  of  this  vivid  reality  of 
the  past  we  had  as  we  camped  within  the  ruins  of  the 
ancient  Temple  of  Baalbec. 

In  those  far-off  times,  when  S}Tia  was  a  province  of  the 
Roman  Empire,  in  the  second  century  of  the  Christian  era, 
was  reared  in  this  beautiful  valley  of  Coele-Syi-ia,  between 
the  two  Lebanons,  a  Temple  which  was  designed  to  be  at 
Baalbec  what  the  Parthenon  was  in  Athens,  the  glory  and 
wonder  of  the  Eastern  world.  Erected  by  the  first  of  the 
Antonines,  it  was  designed  to  be  a  monument  of  Roman 
greatness  and  power,  that  shovdd  endure  to  all  generations. 
We  have  come  to  see  how  much  of  it  remains  after  the 
lapse  of  seventeen  centuries. 


CYCLOPEAN  AKCIIITECTURE.  215 

I  will  not  add   another  to   the  many  descriptions  of 
Baalbec.     It  is  difficult  to  convey  an  idea,  by  mere  archi- 
tectural measui'ements,  of  structures  so  vast.     Petty  details 
rather  detract  from  their  full  grandeur,  which  depends  on 
their  being  taken  in  with  the  eye  as  a  whole.     A  few  gen- 
eral impressions  must  therefore  take  the  place  of  minute 
description.     When  one  rides  into  the  great  court,  around 
which  the  temples  are  grouped,  the  first  impression  is  of 
the  vast  scale  on  which  the  whole  construction  is  planned. 
Ever}i;hing  is  colossal.     The  area  is  larger  than  that  of  the 
Temple   at  Jerusalem.     "We   may  begin  with  the  walls, 
which  are  half  a  mile  around,  and  of  such  height  as  is 
rarely  attained  in  the  most  tremendous  fortress.      When 
from  within  I  climbed  to  the  top,  it  made  me  giddy  to 
look   over  the   pei'ilous   edge   to  the  depth  below ;   and 
when  fi'om  without  the  walls,  I  looked  up  at  them,  they 
rose  high  in  air.      Some  of  the  stones  seem  as  if  they 
must  have  been  reared  in  place,  not  by  Titans,  but  by 
the  gods.      There   are  nine  stones  thirty  feet  long   and 
ten  feet  thick,  which  is  larger  than  the  foundation-stones 
of  the   Temple   at  Jerusalem,   dating   from   the   time  of 
Solomon,  or  any  blocks  in  the  Great  Pyramid.     But  even 
these  are  pigmies  compared  vdih.  the  three  giants  of  the 
western  wall — sixty-two,  sixty-three  and  a  half,  and  sixt}-- 
four  feet  long!     These  are  said  to  be  the  largest  stones 
ever  used  in  any  construction.     They  weigh  hundreds  of 
tons,  and  instead  of  being  merely  hewn  out  of  a  quarry 
which  might  have  been  on  the  site,  and  left  to  he  where 
they  were  before,  they  have  been  lifted  nineteen  feet  from 
the  ground,  and  there  embedded  in  the  wall !     Never  was 
there  such  Cyclopean  architecture.     How  such  enormous 
masses  could  be  moved,  is  a  problem  with  modem  engi- 
neers.    Su'  Charles  Wilson,  whom  I  met  in  Jerusalem,  is 
at  this  moment  in  Baalbec.     Standing  in  the  grounds  of 


21G  now  'J'HK  OPvEAT    STONKS  AVERK    MOVED. 

the  Temple,  he  tells  me  that  in  the  British  Museum  there 
is  an  ancient  tablet  which  reveals  the  way  in  which  such 
stones  were  moved.  The  mechanics  were  very  simple. 
Rollers  were  put  under  them,  and  they  were  drawn  up 
inclined  planes  by  sheer  human  muscle  —  the  united 
streuGfth  of  great  numbers  of  men.  In  the  rude  design  on 
the  tablet,  the  whole  scene  is  pictured  to  the  eye.  There 
are  the  battaHons  of  men,  hundreds  to  a  single  roller,  with 
the  taskmasters  standing  over  them,  lash  in  hand,  which 
was  fi'eely  applied  to  make  them  pull  together,  and  the 
king  sitting  on  high  to  give  the  signal  for  this  putting  forth 
of  human  strength  en  masse,  as  if  an  army  were  moving  to 
battle.  A  battle  it  was  in  the  waste  of  human  life  which  it 
caused.  Who  can  estimate  the  fearful  strain  on  all  that 
host — how  ranks  on  ranks  fell  down  in  the  cruel  task  and 
died,  only  to  be  rej^laced  by  others,  who  were  pushed  on 
with  the  same  remorseless  tyranny !  These  Temples  of 
Baalbec  must  have  been  a  whole  generation  in  building, 
and  have  consumed  the  population  of  a  province  and  the 
wealth  of  an  empire.  Each  course  of  stones  must  have 
been  laid  in  blood  and  tears,  as  if  it  were  a  foundation  of 
an  altar  of  Moloch,  who  could  only  be  appeased  by  a  daily 
offering  of  human  sacrifices. 

The  interior  is  laid  out  like  an  Acropolis,  on  which 
several  temples  are  grouped  together,  and  aU  enclosed 
within  the  same  wall.  Of  these  the  most  perfectly  pre- 
served is  the  Temple  of  the  Sun,  the  walls  of  which  are 
still  standing,  although  the  heavy  stone  roof  has  fallen  in. 
The  style  of  architecture  is  that  of  a  Greek  temple,  and 
shows  where  the  Romans  found  their  masters  and  their 
models.  Laid  out  in  the  form  of  a  parallelogram,  and 
surrounded  by  columns,  its  general  shape  is  that  which 
has  been  so  often  copied  from  the  Greeks,  as  in  the  Made- 
leine at  Paris,  and  in  Girard  College  in  Philadelphia.     It 


THE    (JREAT   TEMPLE.  217 

had  a  double  row  of  columns  in  front,  and  a  single  row  on 
either  side  and  in  the  rear.  Of  these  the  greater  part  are 
fallen,  except  on  the  northern  side,  where  the  peristyle 
remains  nearly  perfect,  thii-teen  out  of  the  fifteen  original 
columns  being  still  erect.  They  are  forty-six  feet  high,  and 
support  an  entablature  of  large  slabs  of  stone,  which  are 
richly  sculptured  in  ornament,  wreaths  of  foHage  encircling 
the  busts  of  emperors  and  gods. 

But  the  glory  of  Baalbec,  upon  which  the  pious  Anto- 
nine  lavished  the  wealth  of  Rome,  is  the  Great  Temple,  of 
which  there  are  far  less  remains  than  of  the  Temple  of 
the  Sun,  but  enough  to  show  its  magnitude  and  splendor. 
It  was  approached  by  a  raised  platform,  or  esplanade, 
440  feet  long  by  370  wide,  which  led  to  the  steps  of  the 
Temple.  Of  the  vastness  of  the  structure  which  rose  on 
this  Acropolis,  some  idea  is  given  by  the  six  Corinthian 
columns,  sixty  feet  long  and  between  seven  and  eight  feet 
in  diameter,  which  are  still  standing,  and  which  fi-om  their 
position  and  height  ai'e  conspicuous  at  a  great  distance 
across  the  plain,  as  one  approaches  Baalbec.  What  must 
have  been  the  glory  of  that  Temple  when  it  stood  complete, 
its  roof  of  burnished  gold  reflecting  the  light  of  the  rising 
or  the  setting  sun,  to  the  dwellers  on  the  sides  of  Lebanon 
or  Anti-Lebanon ! 

It  was  built  to  last  for  eternity.  But  alas  for  the 
di'eams  of  ambition!  It  has  been  the  spoil  of  ages. 
Attacked  in  the  fuiy  of  the  Moslem  conquest,  sacked  by 
Tamerlane,  and  shaken  by  earthquakes,  it  has  seemed  as  if 
man  and  nature  had  conspired  for  its  destruction,  tiU  at 
last  its  columns  lie  prone  upon  the  earth,  or  fallen  one 
upon  another,  the  whole  a  mighty  ruin,  a  monument  at 
once  of  the  greatness  and  the  httleness  of  man  ;  of  the  pride 
which  seeks  to  perpetuate  his  power  and  his  name  ;  and  of 
the  fate  which  overtakes  the  work  of  his  hands. 


218  SABBATH    MUSINGS. 

But  other  and  graver  reflections  come  to  us  here.  It 
is  the  day  of  rest  :  we  are  keeping  our  Sabbath  amid  these 
mighty  ruins  :  and  our  thoughts  take  the  foi-m  of  a  reUg- 
ious  meditation.  These  are  not  the  ruins  of  Palaces,  but 
of  Temples,  which  show  that  there  was  in  that  day  a  behef 
in  the  higher  powers.  Tlie  Antonine  by  whom  they  were 
reared  bore  the  name  of  Antoninus  Pius.  Though  an 
Emperor  on  his  throne,  he  was  grave,  serious,  and  devout, 
and  devoted  to  the  worship  of  the  gods.  "We  are  accus- 
tomed to  think  that  those  who  reared  these  ancient  temples 
knew  how  absurd  was  the  worship  for  which  they  were 
intended,  and  built  them  only  to  embody  certain  ideals  of 
their  imagination,  as  the  Greeks  fixed  in  marble  their  con- 
ceptions of  beauty  in  the  statues  and  temples  of  Venus,  or 
of  Divine  majesty  and  power  in  the  temples  of  Jupiter. 
But  it  is  hard  to  beheve  that  wise  rulers  wovild  waste  the 
resources  of  a  kingdom  to  perpetuate  a  faith  which  they 
knew  to  be  false.  They  might  indeed  build  temples,  as 
the  Pharaohs  of  Egypt  built  P^Tamids,  as  their  own  monu- 
ments ;  so  that  a  Temple  which  bore  the  name  of  Jupiter 
should  celebrate  the  glory  of  Csesar,  rather  than  the  great- 
ness of  the  god  whom  he  professed  to  adore. 

But  after  all,  who  can  say  that  Antoninus  Pius,  in 
building  the  Temple  at  Baalbec,  did  not  believe  in  the  gods 
as  much  as  Leo  X.  believed  in  Christ  when  he  drained  the 
resources  of  Christendom  to  build  St.  Peter's  at  Rome  ? 
Why  should  he  not  have  so  believed  ?  Was  there  any- 
thing so  ignoble  in  his  belief  as  to  be  unworthy  of  the 
grave  and  thoughtful  mind  of  the  pious  Emperor  ?  One 
of  these  temples  was  devoted  to  the  worship  of  the  Sun, 
which,  if  any  material  object  was  to  be  adored,  might  well 
be  worshipped  as  the  Lord  and  Creator  of  Hfe  on  the  earth. 
Was  it  not  true  then — is  it  not  true  to-day — that  but  for 
the  great  Luminar}'  which  daily  rises  in  the  East  and 


WILL  CHRISTIANITY  PERISH  ALSO?  219 

rejoices  as  a  stronpf  man  to  run  a  race,  all  life  on  earth 
would  cease  to  exist?  Man  himself  would  perish  as  quickly 
and  utterly  as  the  meanest  insect.  Wliy  then  should  he 
not  adore  the  Life-giver  and  Life-preseiTer  ? 

Admitting  this,  another  reflection  follows.  A  Religion 
which  was  mighty  enough  to  build  such  temples,  has  joer- 
ished  from  the  earth.  Wlio  knows  but  that  two  thousand 
years  hence  the  Rehgion  in  which  we  believe  may  also 
have  passed  away  ? 

To  this  it  may  be  answered  that  Christianity  was 
already  in  existence  when  these  temples  were  builded, 
and  that  while  they  are  gone,  it  still  lives.  Then  it  was  in 
its  weakness :  now  it  is  in  its  power.  Then  it  was  con- 
fined chiefly  to  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean  :  now  it 
has  gone  into  all  the  world. 

This  is  a  plausible  answer,  but  it  is  by  no  means 
decisive,  for  other  religions  too  have  shown  an  extraor- 
dinary vitahty.  Brahminism  and  Buddhism  are  both  older 
than  Christianity,  and  to  this  day  they  not  only  continue 
to  exist,  but  Buddhism  probably  holds  in  its  dominion  as 
great  a  number  of  disciples  as  Christendom  itself ;  while 
Brahminism,  if  less  in  numbers,  has  a  tenacity  of  life  that 
resists  all  the  powers  of  Christian  civilization.  Skeptics 
see  the  bearing  of  these  comparisons.  Not  only  men  who 
make  a  trade  of  their  infidelity,  in  sporting  their  wit  in 
popular  lectures,  but  thoughtful  students  of  history,  con- 
fess to  the  force  of  this  argument,  which  produces  on  them 
the  same  efiect  that  the  revelations  of  science  do  upon  the 
minds  of  scientific  men.  It  will  not  do  to  make  light  of 
this  cause  of  unbelief.  Reading,  studying,  and  reflecting, 
many  scientific  men  of  Euroj)e  and  America  fully  believe 
that  the  progress  of  science  in  the  course  of  one  or  two 
centuries  will  dispel  the  last  lingering  faith  in  the  Divine 
origin  of  our  religion.     In  their  philosophic   ejes,  our 


220  SCIEXCK    THE    FRIEND    OF    RELIGION. 

Chi-istian  faith  is  but  one  form  of  human  credulity,  which 
must  run  its  coiu'se  and  then  disappear.  Timid  Christians 
may  lament  it,  but  the  result  is  said  to  be  as  inevitable  as 
the  course  of  the  sun  in  the  heavens. 

To  these  sombre  forebodings  it  will  not   do  to  reply 
mth  looks  of  horror,  as  if  historians  and  men  of  science 
were   atheists  and  blasphemers.     It  is  better  to   admit 
frankly  that  Chiistianity  will  share  the  fate  of  the  ancient 
mjiihologies,  unless  it  has  in  itself  the   evidence   of  its 
truth.     Those  who  are  so  zealous  to  defend  it,  must  not  be 
afraid  of  discussion  or  argument,  but  welcome  hght  from 
every  soui'ce.     Instead  of  fearing  science,  they  ought  to 
hail  it  as  the  best  fi'iend  of  religion.     Everything  which 
thi-ows  light  on  the  laws  of  nature,  reveals  the  power  and 
wisdom  of  God.     While  we  are  not  to  be  disturbed  by 
mere  flippant  attacks,  by  caricature  or  ridicule,  yet  if  any- 
thing which  we  have  been  accustomed  to  accept  be  fairly 
disproved,  we  are  simply  to  readjust  oair  faith  to  the  new 
evidence.     No  man  of  intelligence  who  has  mastered  even 
the  rudiments  of  geology,  can  doubt  the  great  antiquity  of 
our  globe.     The  proof  lies  all  round  us  in  the  everlasting 
hills.     When  we   come   to   see   this,    and  reexamine  the 
•sacred  record,  we  find  that  the  difficulty  was  not  in  the 
Bible,  but  in  our  own  ignorance,  in  our  narrow  and  petty 
interpretation.     As  we  see  more  clearly,  all  things  come 
into  harmony.     Earnest  seekers  after  truth,  we  cry  wath 
the  dying  Goethe  "Light!  light!  more  light!"    We  may 
not  build  a  Temple  to  the  Sun,  but  we  shall  welcome 
light  fi'om  every  source,  whether  from  the  orb  of  day,  or 
from  him  who  is  the  Source  of  all  hght,  and  who  has  given 
his  creatui-es  intelligence  to  discern  the  truth,  even  as  he 
has  made  great  lights  in  the  firmament — the  sun  to  rule 
the  day  and  the  moon  to  rule  the  night. 

Further  still,  if  Christianity  is  to  live,  it  must  prove  its 


RELTGTOiSr  MUST  BE  FOUNDED  IX  TRl'Tfl.  221 

right  to  live  by  deeds  of  fifoodness  and  charity,  which  shall 
show  it  to  have  come  from  God.  It  must  attest  its  Divine 
origin  by  the  life  which  abides  in  it,  and  which  it  imparts 
to  its  disciples.  I  confess  that  I  have  seen  in  the  East 
much  which  calls  itself  Chi-istian,  which  in  faith  differs 
little  from  the  ancient  mythology,  and  which  in  the  Hfe  it 
produces,  is  no  better  than  the  ancient  paganism.  If  I 
had  to  choose  between  the  piety  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  or 
Antoninus  Pius,  and  many  of  the  types  of  Christianity 
which  I  see  here,  I  should  not  hesitate  a  moment.  In 
Jerusalem  itself  the  contrast  is  not  to  oiu'  advantage.  In 
the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  where  Greeks  and 
Latins  meet  together  to  celebrate  the  death  and  resun'ec- 
tion  of  their  common  Lord,  they  meet  not  in  mutual  love, 
but  glaring  at  each  other  iii  hatred,  which  they  do  not 
attemjDt  to  conceal,  and  Moslem  soldiers  stand  gniard  over 
them,  to  prevent  angry  strife  in  the  very  temple  of  God ! 
Not  so  is  the  world  to  be  won  to  him  who  is  the  Master  of 
us  all,  but  by  a  Religion  founded  in  truth,  supported  by 
every  argument  of  science  and  philosophy,  and  above  all, 
illustrated  in  lives  of  pui'ity  and  peace  and  love,  which 
shall  cause  the  moral  wildernesses  to  bud  and  blossom  as 
the  rose. 

Such  were  the  musings  of  that  Sabbath  day  in  the  ruins 
of  Baalbec.  After  such  gi-ave  meditations,  it  was  a  relief,  as 
the  day  was  drawing  to  a  close,  to  leave  the  ruins,  and  take  a 
walk  through  the  village  :  for  there  is  a  village  here  of  two 
or  thi'ee  thousand  inhabitants — a  village  not  poorer  than 
other  Syrian  villages,  and  which  would  appear  quite  re- 
spectable were  it  not  thrown  into  insignificance  by  the  con- 
trast with  the  remains  of  the  masters  of  the  world.  But  if 
the  people  are  poor,  they  can  be  happy,  as  we  saw  by  a 
very  pretty  scene.  Following  a  small  stream  which  flowed 
with  a  rapid  cuiTent,  we  came  to  a  bit  of  green  sward  sur- 


222  MOONLIGHT    IX    THE   IIUINS. 

rounded  by  the  waters  like  an  island.  Here  Floyd  had 
prof)osed  to  pitch  our  camp,  but  we  prefen-ed  the  grounds 
of  the  Temple.  Yet  no  one  could  find  fault  with  such  a 
camping-ground.  It  is  a  resort  of  the  people  of  the  vil- 
lage, who  were  here  in  numbers,  well  dressed,  and  enjoy- 
ing the  quiet  evening  and  the  open  air  with  their  children. 
As  we  came  back  to  our  camp,  we  stopped  at  the  Maronite 
church  in  the  \4Uage,  which  is  very  small,  and  has  but  few 
worshippers.  It  is  a  feeble  and  glimmering  light  in  the 
midst  of  so  much  darkness.  A  better  hope  we  have  from 
the  Protestant  schools  introduced  as  an  offshoot  of  the 
American  Mission  in  the  Lebanon,  which  are  well  attended, 
and  give  hope  that  Baalbec,  if  never  again  the  seat  of  Im- 
perial grandeur,  but  left  only  to  be  the  site  of  a  Sj-rian 
village,  may  yet  be  the  abode  of  intelligence,  of  content- 
ment, and  of  peace. 

The  day  was  ended,  but  the  night  drew  on,  which  was 
even  more  fitted  to  put  one  into  a  mood  of  sober  musing 
than  the  day.  As  the  sun  was  setting,  I  went  up  on  the 
wall,  and  sat  a  long  time  watching  the  Hght  in  the  west  as 
it  faded  over  mountain  and  plain.  Hardly  had  the  sun 
gone  doAvn  when  the  full  moon  rose  in  the  opposite  quar- 
ter of  the  heavens,  shining  through  the  rents  in  the  gray 
old  walls  with  a  soft  Ught  that  gave  them  a  strange,  un- 
earthly beauty  ;  while  the  columns  that  were  still  standing 
cast  long  shadows  on  the  soHtary  place  —  shadows  that 
seemed  to  the  quickened  fancy  like  the  ghosts  of  old 
Romans  come  to  revisit  the  scene  of  their  ancient  splen- 
dor. But  they  are  only  ghosts.  The  Romans  are  gone  ; 
the  legions  are  departed  ;  we  hear  their  tramp  growing 
fainter  and  fainter  in  the  distance,  and  at  last  dying  away 
like  the  hollow  wind.  What  a  monvunent  of  human  vanity 
is  this  desolation !  How  it  rebukes  the  pride  and  ambi- 
tion, not  only  of  kings  and  conquerors,  but  of  nations. 


A  CITY  THAT  WILL    NOT   PERISH.  223 

As  for  individuals,  we  shall  disappear,  as  those  shadows 
disappear  with  the  rising  sun.  These  walls  which  have 
stood  for  centui'ies  will  remain  for  centuries  to  come  ;  but 
we  shall  pass  away  and  be  no  more  seen.  But  there  is 
that  which  shall  abide  when  man  and  all  his  works  have 
perished.  The  city  of  God  which  is  above  is  built  of 
spiritual  stones,  which  will  not  crumble  with  the  ages.  In 
the  Great  Mosque  of  Damascus  is  an  old  Greek  inscription, 
placed  there  in  Chiistian  times,  and  not  removed  by  its 
Moslem  masters,  but  still  embedded  in  its  walls,  which  we 
may  perhaj^s  interpret  as  a  prophecy  of  coming  events  in 
the  East,  as  weU  as  of  that  realm  which  is  universal  and 
eternal  :  "  Thy  kingdom,  O  Christ,  is  an  everlasting  king- 
dom, and  thy  dominion  endui'eth  to  all  generations." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE   VALLEY    OF    COELE-SYRIA CROSSING   MOUNT 

LEBANON. 

If  one  were  to  choose  a  day  in  all  the  roiind  year, 
which  should  be  the  brightest  and  best,  on  which  to  begin 
a  journey  or  to  end  it,  woidd  it  not  be  the  first  of  May  ? 
So  we  thought  as  we  struck  otu'  tents  the  next  morning, 
and  mounted  our  horses.  But  bright  expectations  are  not 
always  realized.  At  our  setting  out  a  rainbow  in  the  west 
gave  ominous  conjecttu'e  of  what  the  day  might  bring 
forth,  and  hardly  had  we  left  the  ruins  of  Baalbec  before 
the  darkening  sky  warned  us  that  oiir  apprehensions  were 
to  be  realized.  But  nothing  could  hide  the  beauty  of  the 
landscape.  On  this  first  of  May  we  were  to  enter  the 
Garden  of  Eden,  to  the  description  of  which  few  valleys 
answer  more  than  this  of  Coele-Syria.  It  is  probably  the 
bed  of  an  ancient  lake,  which  has  left  a  bottom  as  smooth 
and  level  as  when  the  waters  flowed  over  it.  Not  only 
is  it  of  great  natural  fertility,  but  richly  cultivated.  It  is 
dotted  with  villages,  which  are  no  longer  confined  to  the 
lulls.  Fields  of  wheat  and  barley  remind  an  American  of 
the  abundance  of  our  Western  prairies.  As  the  soil  con- 
tains a  great  deal  of  iron,  it  turns  up  red,  while  the  spring- 


THE  VALLEY  OF  COELE-SYRIA.  225 

ing  wheat  gives  to  the  fields  the  richest  green.  This 
contrast  of  color  is  one  of  the  beauties  of  the  valley.  On 
our  right  is  the  range  of  Lebanon,  whose  foot-hills  advance 
into  the  plain,  keeping  the  waving  line  of  beauty  in  their 
rounded  slopes ;  while  behind  and  above  them,  as  well  as 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Plain,  is  the  backgrovmd  of  the 
mountains. 

The  effect  of  all  this  was  greatly  enhanced  by  the 
threatened  storm.  Though  the  clouds  did  not  burst,  yet 
great  masses  darkened  the  sky,  and  as  they  swept  across 
it,  cast  their  shadows  on  the  sides  of  the  mountains.  At 
first  fell  a  few  scattering  drops,  and  then  came  full  in  our 
faces  gusts  of  wind  with  heavy  rain,  against  which  we  had 
but  a  feeble  protection.  We  put  up  our  umbrellas,  which 
Avas  like  hoisting  flags  at  half-mast,  and  rode  on.  Four 
hours  of  this  made  us  quite  willing  to  rest,  when  we 
reached  the  village  of  Muallaka,  and  found  shelter  in  a 
house  which  had  httle  furnitiu'e  except  matting  on  the 
floor,  travellers  being  expected  to  provide  not  only  food, 
but  bedding,  if  they  rest  for  the  night,  as  in  the  dak-bun- 
galows of  India.  However,  if  the  rooms  were  bare,  they 
were  dry,  and  gave  us  a  feeling  of  comfort.  This  village, 
though  little  known  to  the  world,  has  one  possession  which 
of  itself  were  enough  to  confer  distinction  upon  it,  the 
sepulchre  of  Grandfather  Noah ;  and  to  make  the  most  of 
it,  they  have  stretched  him  out  to  his  full  proportions,  his 
tomb  being  two  hundred  feet  long !  Even  with  this,  the 
patriarch  is  somewhat  cramped  :  for  it  is  said  that  his 
knees  are  bent,  and  his  lower  limbs  planted  straight  in  the 
ground !  These  fables  are  devoutly  believed  by  the  Mos- 
lems, with  whom  the  tomb  is  an  object  of  great  veneration. 

By  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  we  reached  Stoura,  the 
midway  station  on  the  French  road  from  Damascus  to 
Beirut  ;  and  as  soon  as  our  horses'  hoofs  struck  that,  we 


226  OX    THE    DAMASCUS   ROAD. 

had  a  firm  path  under  our  feet,  and  a  line  of  telegraph  over 
our  head — the  double  sign  of  ci\'ihzation.  That  long  Une 
of  telegraph  poles  which  has  marched  up  the  other  side  of 
Lebanon,  and  now  goes  striding  over  the  valley  of  Coele- 
S_\iia,  to  climb  Anti-Lebanon,  and  descend  into  the  Plain 
of  Damascvis  ;  does  not  stop  there,  but  stalks  away  across 
the  SjTian  desert  to  Bagdad  and  to  Persia,  and  thus  con- 
nects Europe  with  Central  Asia. 

But  the  great  sign  of  civihzation  is  the  road  itself,  with 
the  traffic  which  passes  over  it  in  huge  covered  vans,  like 
those  known  in  America  as  Pennsylvania  waggons,  each 
one  of  which  is  di'awn  by  thi-ee  mules,  and  will  cany  the 
loads  of  half  a  dozen  camels.  They  generally  go  in  com- 
panies of  a  dozen  or  twenty,  which  together  would  trans- 
port as  much  as  a  large  caravan ;  and  as  they  are  always 
in  sight,  going  up  and  down  the  mountains,  they  present 
the  appearance  of  the  transportation  train  of  an  army. 

We  did  not  stop  for  the  night  at  Stoura,  but  pushed  on 
'  mile  or  two  up  the  side  of  Lebanon,  and  camped  on  a 
^een  spot,  from  which  we  had  the  whole  Plain  of  Coele- 
S}Tia  at  oiu'  feet.  Our  tents  were  j)itched  none  too  soon. 
Hai'dly  were  we  under  shelter,  when  the  rain,  which  had 
been  fitful  all  day,  came  down  heavily.  Night  set  in  dai-k 
and  gloomy.  But  what  soldier  ever  cared  for  the  elements 
the  last  night  of  a  campaign  ?  Nothing  could  check  the 
flow  of  our  spirits  so  near  the  end  of  our  journey.  Our 
long  march  was  nearly  over.  This  was  our  last  night  in 
tents,  and  we  were  in  a  merry  mood  as  we  gathered  round 
our  table,  even  though  the  rain  was  pouring  in  ton-ents  ; 
nor  did  it  disturb  our  rest,  though  it  kept  on  pouring  all 
night  long.  A  little  before  morning  the  clouds  broke 
away,  and  the  sun  came  out  gloriously ;  and  when  we 
broke  camp,  oiu'  tent  life  was  over. 

We  were   early  in  the  saddle  for   our  last  ride,  and 


ON    THE   DAMASCUS   ROAD.  227 

started  briskly  up  the  mountain.  What  a  pleasure  to  ride 
with  free  rein  on  such  a  road  as  this,  instead  of  picking  our 
way  over  stones  among  the  rough  bridle-paths  of  Palestine ! 
But  we  are  not  alone  on  the  march.  The  movement  of 
baggage  waggons,  which  has  not  ceased  duiing  the  night, 
keeps  up  its  steady  rumble.  The  waggons  that  have  to 
climb  the  mountain  strain  hard  and  move  slowly,  while 
those  descending  come  down  rapidly.  There  is  something 
very  impressive  in  this  endless  march  and  cotmtei-march, 
this  moving  to  and  fro  of  busy  life,  keeping  its  endless 
coui'se  along  the  highways  of  civilization.  In  this  traffic 
are  the  products  of  all  nations  and  all  countries,  from  the 
farthest  East  to  the  farthest  West.  Nor  is  America  unrep- 
resented. The  most  conspicuous  object  in  these  baggage 
waggons,  is  American  petroleum.  On  the  top  of  all  the 
European  wares  stares  at  me  the  sign  of  "  Pratt's  Astral 
Oil  :  warranted  not  to  explode  " !  The  oil  drawn  from 
the  wells  of  Pennsylvania  finds  its  way  to  the  cafes  and 
bazaars  of  Damascus  and  Bagdad,  and  even  to  the  tents  of 
the  Bedaween  ;  so  that  whatever  be  said  of  the  moral 
influences  which  America  sends  to  these  shores,  in  one  very 
practical  and  material  way  she  furnishes  the  illiuninating 
element  to  light  up  the  darkness  of  the  East. 

The  diligences  from  Damascus  and  Beirut  pass  each 
other — that  which  is  climbing  having  extra  mules  har- 
nessed to  it,  to  drag  it  up  the  steep  ascent ;  while  that 
which  has  crossed  the  summit  comes  down  the  mountain 
at  full  speed,  swinging  round  the  windings  of  the  road  in 
a  way  that  reminded  me  Yery  vividly  of  a  passage  of  the 
Alps  years  ago,  before  the  tunnel  was  bored  under  the 
Mont  Cenis,  when,  with  similar  speed,  we  came  rushing 
down  into  the  valleys  of  Savoy. 

In  a  couple  of  hours  we  had  reached  the  top  of  the 
mountain,  and  tiu-ned  our  horses  to  take  a  last  look  at  the 


228  ON   THE   TOP    OF   LEBANON. 

valley  of  Coele-S}Tia,  which  was  spread  out  before  ua. 
There  are  few  fairer  spots  on  the  earth's  surface.  Here, 
and  not  at  Damascus,  is  the  Paradise  from  which  Mahomet 
might  well  have  turned  away.  Though  the  valley  be  not 
so  broad  as  the  Plain  of  Damascus — it  is  only  three  or  four 
miles  wide — it  is  more  beautiful,  as  the  mountains  come 
nearer.  Lebanon  and  Hermon  beckon  to  each  other 
across  the  plain.  Seldom  does  the  eye  rest  on  a  more 
glorious  object  than  that  snow-crowned  head  of  Hermon, 
as  it  stands  clear  and  white  in  the  morning  sky.  With  a 
lingering  look,  we  turned  away  from  a  vision  which  we 
shall  never  look  upon  again,  but  which  we  can  never 
forget. 

And  now  we  begin  to  descend  the  western  slope  of 
Lebanon.  The  way  is  long,  for  the  road  winds  in  and  out, 
to  make  an  easy  and  gradual  descent.  As  we  turn  hither 
and  thither,  there  opens  before  us  a  wide  prospect  of  forest 
and  mountain,  while  every  moment  comes  nearer  and 
clearer  the  view  of  a  great  city,  and  of  the  sea  beyond. 
I  had  seen  the  Mediterranean  but  twice  before,  at  Gaza  and 
from  the  top  of  Carmel,  since  I  landed  at  Alexandria. 

We  stopped  but  once  for  rest  on  the  mountain  side, 
riding  into  the  yard  of  a  khan,  from  which — the  yard — 
(and  it  was  not  a  court-yard  or  door-yard,  but  a  barn-yard) 
there  was  a  grand  outlook  toward  the  sea.  As  we  stood 
admiring  the  view,  a  horseman  came  up  the  road,  who  had 
the  di'css  of  a  Emropean,  and  we  supposed  to  be  a  gentle- 
man fi'om  Beiinit  taking  an  airing  on  the  mountains,  when 
he  rode  into  the  yard  and  called  my  name.  It  was  Mr. 
Dale  of  the  American  Mission,  who  was  on  his  way  from 
Beu'ut  back  to  his  home  in  Zahleh,  a  large  village  in  the 
Lebanon.  We  detained  him  for  luncheon,  and  sat  down 
together,  squatting  on  our  mats  in  the  Eastern  fashion. 
He  made  but  a  brief  halt,  as  he  had  far  to  ride ;  but  in 


APPROACH    TO    BEIRUT.  229 

that  short  time  his  earnest  missionary  spirit  left  a  pleasant 
impression  upon  us  all.  A  native  of  Philadelphia,  with  the 
education  of  a  scholai",  and  a  refinement  of  manners  that 
would  seem  to  make  much  in  Oriental  habits  repiJsive  to 
him,  he  has  chosen  the  Hfe  of  a  missionary,  not  from  a 
hard  sense  of  duty,  but  because  it  is  the  work  which  he 
loves,  and  enters  into  with  enthusiasm.  "  When,"  I  said  to 
him,  "  are  you  going  to  return  to  America  ?  Do  you  not 
pine  for  a  sight  of  Philadelphia  ?  "  "  Philadelphia !  "  he 
answered.  "  What  is  Philadelphia  compared  to  Zahleh?" 
That  is  the  stuff  that  American  missionaries  are  made  of, 
and  such  are  the  men  who  have  made  bright  so  many 
spots  on  the  sides  of  Lebanon. 

The  ride  was  easy  now  that  we  were  coming  down  the 
mountain.  The  horses  stepped  quickly,  and  with  each 
descending  curve  of  the  road  the  outline  of  the  coast 
became  clearer,  till  we  could  see  the  long  stretch  of  sandy 
beach  and  the  white  caps  of  the  waves  breaking  on  the 
shore.  There,  on  a  promontory  jutting  into  the  sea  was 
Beinit,  the  roofs  of  its  houses  glistening  in  the  sun.  The 
approach  is  through  a  succession  of  olive  groves,  which 
cover  the  plain  and  reach  far  up  the  mountain  side,  making 
the  wealth  of  the  villages  which  are  perched  upon  the 
rocks  ;  and  through  plantations  of  mulberry-trees,  which 
show  that  silk  cultiu'e  is  one  of  the  great  industries  of  the 
country.  Near  the  city  are  groves  of  pine  trees,  which  are 
not  common  in  Syria,  but  which  are  planted  here  to  furnish 
a  cool  retreat  in  the  heats  of  Summer.  So  we  rode  on  till 
we  were  within  about  two  miles  of  the  city,  when  I  saw 
coming  a  face  that  looked  familiar,  and  soon  recognized  a 
voice  that  I  had  often  heard  among  the  rocks  of  Sinai.  It 
was  Dr.  Post,  who  had  come  out  to  meet  me.  I  had  been 
"  stopped  on  the  road "  once  before  in  his  company,  but 
that  was  by  robbers  on  the  desert.     Then  he  told  me  not 


230  IX  AX  AMERICAX    HOME. 

to  get  off  from  my  camel  ;  but  now  lie  bade  me  dismount. 
I  was  soiTv  to  say  good-bye  to  the  faitlifvd  beast  tbat  bad 
brought  me  from  Jenisalem,  but  I  confess  that  after  weeks 
and  months  of  rocking  and  jolting  on  horseback  and  camel- 
back,  I  was  not  sorry  to  descend  fi-om  this  elevation,  and 
to  "  come  up  into  the  chariot."  Remembering  my  anxiety 
at  Gaza  for  news  fi'om  my  family,  he  had  brought  with 
him  letters  and  a  telegram  from  Venice,  to  cheer  me  with 
good  tidings  on  my  second  retui'n  to  civilization. 

And  then  he  took  me  to  his  home.  Having  some  little 
means  of  his  own,  he  has  chosen  to  use  them  in  the  wisest 
way  that  a  man  can,  in  providing  for  his  family  a  house 
after  his  own  taste.  It  is  a  modest  English  cottage, 
with  only  the  addition  of  the  broad  veranda,  which  is  as 
indispensable  in  an  Eastern  house  as  in  an  Indian  bunga- 
low ;  while  the  interior,  in  its  comfort  and  convenience, 
is  quite  American.  The  love  of  flowers  betrays  itself  in 
the  perfume  that  gi'eets  us  as  we  drive  in  at  the  gate. 
Vines  oveiTun  the  walls  and  encircle  the  doors  and  win- 
dows, and  fill  the  air  with  fi-agrance.  But  the  gloiy  of 
the  house  is  its  position,  on  a  bluff,  fi'om  which  one  can 
look  off,  like  Elijah's  servant  fi'om  the  top  of  Carmel,  "  over 
the  wide  expanse  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea."  My  windows 
take  in  the  whole  horizon  of  waters,  with  snow-capped 
mountains  in  the  north.  One  can  hardly  realize,  except  in 
coming  out  of  the  wilderness,  the  exquisite  charm  of  such 
a  dweUing.  What  is  the  excitement  of  tent  life  compared 
with  this  sweet  domestic  repose  ?  With  aU  the  poetry  of 
the  mountains  or  the  desert,  I  prefer  ci\41ization  ;  and  am 
content  to  dwell  no  more  in  "  tabernacles,"  like  Abraham, 
Isaac,  and  Jacob,  when  I  can  exchange  them  for  the  order 
and  taste,  the  comfort  and  the  refinement,  of  an  iVmerican 
borne. 


CHAPTEE  XX. 

BEIRUT — AMERICA  IX    THE    EAST. 

The  traveller  who  makes  Beirut  the  terminus  of  his 
journey  thi-ough  the  Holy  Land,  will  be  apt  to  feel  that  he 
has  kept  the  best  until  the  last.  It  is  in  some  respects 
the  most  attractive  city  in  the  East.  Its  position  unites 
almost  every  element  of  beauty.  As  Byron  pictures  the 
scene  of  one  of  the  great  battles  of  history  in  the  lines 

The  mountains  look  on  Marathon, 
And  Marathon  looks  on  the  sea ; 

SO  we  may  say  of  the  modem  commercial  capital  of  Syria. 
Its  site  has  been  chosen  on  account  of  its  secure  harbor  for 
ships,  while  behind  it  and  around  it  sweeps  the  chain  of 
Lebanon.  It  is  a  constant  pleasure  to  tiu-n  the  eye  to  that 
glorious  backgi'ound  of  mountains.  It  is  not  as  in  India, 
where  one  has  to  travel  hundreds  of  miles  over  the  hot  and 
sultry  plains,  to  reach  the  Hills.  They  are  in  full  sight, 
but  two  or  three  hovurs  distant.  The  residents  of  Beirut, 
in  Summer,  take  up  their  quarters  in  the  villages  that  hang 
on  the  side  of  the  mountains,  embowered  in  olive  trees. 
Here  the  missionaries  have  their  retreats.  Dr.  Post  and 
Dr.  Dennis  have  adjoining  cottages,  eyries  from  which 
they  can  look  down  on  theii'  city  homes. 


232  BEIRUT. 

But  the  great  beauty  of  Beirut  is  the  sea.  It  stands  on 
a  point  of  land  which  projects  so  boldly  that  the  sea  is  on 
thi-ee  sides  of  it,  and  almost  girdles  the  city  with  a  zone  of 
silver.  There  it  is  morning,  noon,  and  night — at  sunrise 
and  sunset,  in  twilight  and  moonlight  and  starlight,  in 
calm  and  storm,  enchaining  the  eye,  now  by  its  beauty, 
and  now  by  its  majesty  and  power. 

The  sea  brings  commerce,  and  Beirut  being  at  the  head 
of  the  Mediterranean,  has  a  large  trade  with  all  the  coun- 
tries along  its  shores,  sending  its  olives  and  silks  to  Italy 
and  France,  to  England  and  to  America.  Her  merchants 
are  princes,  whose  wealth  appears  in  the  stately  mansions, 
which  rise  on  the  hillsides  that  enclose  the  city. 

Being  thus  connected  by  commerce  with  Europe,  Beirut 
is  half  a  European  city.  Here  for  the  first  time  in  Syria, 
one  finds  paved  streets,  through  which  he  can  drive  in  a 
carriage,  and  good  roads  out  of  the  city,  with  many  other 
signs  of  European  order  and  civilization. 

It  is  one  of  the  few  parts  of  the  Turkish  Empire  that  is 
decently  governed.  This  is  the  fruit  of  European  inter- 
vention. After  the  massacres  of  1860,  France  and  England 
insisted  that  the  Christian  population  should  not  be  left  to 
the  fanaticism  of  the  Druses  and  other  Moslems,  and 
assumed  a  sort  of  protectorate  over  the  Lebanon,  in  con- 
sequence of  which  it  has  at  this  moment  an  excellent 
Governor  in  the  person  of  Rustem  Pacha,  of  whom  the 
missionaries  speak  in  the  highest  terms.* 

*  I  regret  to  be  obliged  to  add,  that  within  the  past  year,  when 
his  term  of  office  expired,  owing  to  the  opposition  of  France, 
Kustem  Pacha  was  not  reappointed  Governor  of  the  Lebanon. 
The  new  appointment  was  the  subject  of  intrigues  at  Constanti- 
nople, and  it  seems  almost  a  miracle  that,  as  the  issue  of  this 
conflict  of  parties,  the  Porte  has  sent  one  who  has  the  reputation 
of  being  a  man  of  integrity,  justice,  and  courage. 


CHRISTIAN    INSTITUTIONS.  233 

Tlie  commercial  importance  of  Beirut  brings  here  not 
only  the  Consuls  of  different  countries,  but  a  large  number 
of  foreign  residents,  bankers  and  merchants,  who  form 
a  very  agreeable  communit}'.  With  this  European  life  is 
introduced  another  element  not  less  imporiant  to  the 
future  of  the  East — Christian  institutions.  The  CathoUcs 
are  here  in  force  with  their  large  convents  and  seminaries ; 
but  theii'  jiresence  need  not  alarm  us  ;  we  need  not  fear 
any  rivalship  in  well-doing.  Let  them  do  all  the  good 
they  can.  However  active  and  self-denying  their  Sisters 
of  Charity  may  be,  they  cannot  surpass  in  devotion  the 
Deaconesses  of  Kaiserswerth,  who  are  here  in  the  hospitals, 
giving  themselves  to  the  care  of  the  sick  and  the  poor. 
Such  angels  of  mercy  bless  the  world  wherever  their  foot- 
steps come. 

Of  course,  the  hand  of  England  is  here,  as  it  is  every- 
where :  her  institutions  are  scattered  over  the  globe.  The 
last  morning  that  we  were  in  Beirut  there  was  a  gather- 
ing of  the  children  of  the  famous  schools  of  Mrs.  Mott 
As  a  number  of  strangers,  English  and  American,  stood 
on  the  steps  of  the  large  mansion,  which  from  its  position 
on  the  hill -side  overlooks  the  city  and  the  bay,  and  saw  a 
thousand  children  marching  through  the  spacious  grounds 
singing  their  songs  and  waving  their  banners,  all  felt  that 
they  might  have  been  witnessing  a  Sunday-school  celebra- 
tion in  England  or  America.  It  was  one  of  those  happy 
scenes  which  give  us  hope  that  the  next  generation  will  be 
better  than  their  fathers. 

While  recognizing  the  noble  efforts  of  different  coun- 
tries, it  is  natural  that  an  American  should  feel  a  special 
interest  in  those  which  originated  in  his  own  country, 
to  which  I  refer  as  showing  that  America,  though  so  far 
away,  has  a  legitimate  influence  in  the  East.  Although 
not  one  of  the  Great  Powers  which  assume  to  regulate  the 


234  AMERICA  IN    THE    EAST. 

affairs  of  Em-ope  and  of  tlie  Eastern  shores  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean, she  has  a  jDOsition  of  her  own,  which  carries  with  it 
very  great  influence.  True,  she  has  no  "  Eastern  pohcy," 
except  the  policy  which  she  has  towards  all  nations — that 
of  peace  and  good  will.  She  did  not  join  with  England 
and  France  in  fighting  the  battles  of  Turkey  in  the  Crimean 
War,  in  which  they  rendered  a  doubtful  service  to  civiliza- 
tion. In  a  preceding  war  of  Turkey  the  sympathies  of 
America  were  wholly  against  that  power,  and  on  the  side 
of  Greece  ;  but  she  took  no  part  in  the  struggle  beyond 
that  of  receiving  and  protecting  refugees  flying  from  the 
massacre  of  Scio.  She  has  entered  into  no  Eastern  war  : 
she  has  sent  no  army  to  these  shores,  and  no  fleet  into 
these  waters.  Once  indeed  the  United  States  intervened 
in  the  Mediterranean  ;  but  not  for  any  selfish,  or  merely 
national,  interest,  but  in  the  interest  of  the  whole  world, 
against  the  Barbary  pirates,  who  for  three  centimes  had 
levied  tribute  on  the  commerce  of  all  nations — a  tribute  to 
which  America  was  the  first  to  opjDose  a  determined  and 
successful  resistance.  In  1815  Commodore  Decatur  won  a 
brilliant  victory,  which  brought  the  haughty  Dey  of  Algiers 
to  terms,  and  compelled  him  to  recognize  the  flag  of  the 
United  States  as  inviolable — a  work  which  was  followed  up 
the  next  year  by  the  English  fleet  under  Lord  Exmouth, 
which  bombarded  Algiers,  and  compelled  the  Dey  to 
release  all  Christian  slaves.  Some  years  afterwards  Ameri- 
can ships  rendered  a  Hke  service  in  pui'suing  the  pirates 
who  hid  themselves  among  the  islands  of  the  Greek  archi- 
pelago. But  this  hunting  of  outlaws  on  land  or  sea  is 
not  war  against  a  country  or  a  government,  so  that  it  is 
Hterally  true  that,  from  the  foundation  of  our  Republic,  its 
relations  with  the  Eastern  world  have  been  those  of  peace 
and  friendship. 

"With  such  a  policy   of  non-interference   with    other 


MISSIONS   IN   THE   TURKISH    EMPIRE.  235 

nations — a  policy  declared  from  the  beginning  and  fol- 
lowed up  in  aU  Ler  history,  how  is  it  that  America  has 
obtained  a  jDosition  or  acqiiired  influence  in  the  East, 
where  influence  generally  goes  with  the  display  of  mili- 
tary or  naval  power?  Perhaps  her  influence  has  been 
partly  owing  to  the  fact  that  she  has  not  made  any  such 
display  of  force.  Having  no  political  designs,  she  has 
not  been  an  object  of  suspicion.  But  it  has  not  been  this 
alone.  More  powerful  than  the  action,  or  non-action,  of  the 
government,  has  been  the  silent  influence  of  individual  men. 

More  than  half  a  centuiy  ago,  while  the  war  with 
Greece  was  still  raging,  American  missionaries  were  sent 
to  Constantinople,  Smyrna,  and  Beirut,  and  into  the  inte- 
rior of  the  Tiu'ldsh  empire.  They  came,  not  as  emissaries 
of  their  Government,  but  as  Christian  teachers.  They 
planted  schools ;  they  gathered  churches ;  they  were  the 
friends  of  the  poor,  whom  they  often  fed  in  the  time  of 
famine,  and  to  whom  they  ministered  in  sickness,  facing 
the  horrors  of  the  cholera  and  the  plague  that  they  miglit 
give  them  relief.  Thus  in  the  coiu'se  of  a  generation  they 
made  theii'  way  into  the  hearts  of  the  peoj)le,  and  won  uni- 
versal confidence  and  respect. 

Of  these  messengers  of  peace,  some  went  up  to  the 
top  of  Lebanon,  where  their  feet  were  beautiful  upon 
the  mountains.  There  was  one  who  was  fitly  called  the 
Cedar  of  Lebanon — he  was  of  such  commanding  pres- 
ence that  he  might  weU  be  likened  to  one  of  the  goodly 
cedars.  This  man,  Simeon  H.  <JaIhoun,  who  might  have 
held  a  position  of  honor  in  his  own  cormtry,  spent  more 
than  thirty  years  on  Mount  Lebanon,  teaching  Ai'ab 
boys,  that  when  they  were  grown  to  be  men,  they  might 
become  pastors  and  teachers.  Years  passed  before  he 
could  see  the  fr'uit  of  his  labor ;  but  after  a  generation 
he  was  able  to  say  that  "From  his  academy  on  Mount 


236  THE    CEDAR    OF   LEBANON. 

Lebanon  had  gone  out  teacliei's  carefully  grounded  in 
natural  philosophy,  the  lesser  mathematics,  geogi*aphy, 
history,  Ai'abic,  and  especially  the  Bible.  These  teachers 
were  in  Jaffa,  Gaza,  in  the  land  of  Moab,  in  Ramoth- 
Gilead,  in  Damascus.  The  teacher  of  the  high  school  in 
the  latter  city  was  one  of  his  pupils.  They  were  carrjdng 
the  Christian  Scriptures  and  the  elements  of  education 
among  their  peojDle  all  over  the  Holy  Land." 

The  influence  of  such  a  man  could  not  be  confined  to  a 
school,  a  village,  or  a  community.  The  people  of  the  East 
are  impressed  by  anjiihing  that  betokens  pecuHar  sanctity, 
and  they  were  awed  by  his  gi'ave  and  reverend  aspect,  and 
still  more,  by  his  life.  There  was  in  him  something  so  un- 
worldly, that  they  revered  him  as  a  saint.  Such  was  the 
influence  he  acquired  over  them,  and  such  their  confidence 
in  him,  that  when  civil  war  broke  out  in  the  Lebanon 
between  the  Maronites  and  the  Druses,  and  raged  with 
terrible  ferocity — when  the  nights  were  Hghted  up  with 
the  burning  of  villages,  and  massacre  on  one  side  provoked 
massacre  on  the  other — both  sides  came  to  him  for  protec- 
tion, and  brought  their  precious  things,  and  stored  them 
under  his  roof,  feehng  that  they  were  safe  under  his  cai-e. 
Was  there  ever  a  greater  tribute  to  the  power  of  character 
over  infuriated  men  ? 

It  was  the  desire  of  this  noble  man  to  die  on  Mount 
Lebanon,  and  to  sleep  among  the  people  whom  he  so  much 
loved.  On  his  last  visit  to  America  a  friend  urged  him  to 
remain  in  his  own  counfcr}-,  where  his  long  experience  in 
missions  might  benefit  the  Church  more  than  his  services 
abroad ;  but  he  answered  "  No  ;  there  are  two  cedars  on 
Lebanon  just  far  enough  apart  for  my  body  to  he  between 
them,  and  there  will  be  my  resting-place."  But  this  was 
not  to  be.  He  had  come  back  to  America  to  die,  and  his 
body  rests  in  the  soil  of  his  native  land.     But  he  has  left 


THE  SYRIAN   MISSION.  237 

on  Mount  Lebanon,  and  in  all  the  East,  the  memory  of  his 
goodness,  and  the  rich  inheritance  of  his  beloved  name. 

I  speak  of  this  missionary  rather  than  others  because  I 
knew  him  best.  When  I  was  in  College  he  was  my  teacher, 
and  he  has  always  been  in  my  memoiy  as  the  very  tj-pe  of 
Christian  manliness.  But  there  were  others  of  like  spirit 
associated  with  him.  The  Mission  cemeteiy  in  Beinit  holds 
their  dust.  There  sleeps  Eli  Smith,  who  accompanied  Dr. 
Robinson  in  his  exploration  of  the  Peninsula  of  Sinai  and 
of  the  Holy  Land.  Such  were  the  men  who  founded  the 
Syrian  Mission,  which  they  left  as  the  fruit  of  their  labors, 
a  legacy  to  those  who  should  come  after  them. 

With  such  a  history  of  fifty  years  behind  it,  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  this  Mission  is  so  thoroughly  organized,  with 
every  aid  to  a  work  that  is  designed  to  be  extensive  and 
permanent.  Dr.  Eddy,  one  of  the  old  veterans  of  the  Mis- 
sion, has  charge  of  the  Press,  and  edits  a  paper  in  Arabic, 
besides  preaching  in  a  chapel  in  another  part  of  the  city. 
Dr.  Jessup  is  the  pastor  of  the  native  church,  and  by  his 
eloquence,  which  is  equally  marked  whether  he  speaks  in 
Enghsh  or  in  Arabic,  draws  crowds  to  hear  him.  Near  his 
house  is  a  seminary  for  Arab  girls  under  the  charge  of  Miss 
Everett,  assisted  by  Miss  Jackson,  and  by  Miss  Thomson, 
a  daughter  of  the  author  of  "The  Land  and  the  Book." 

But  the  chief  glory  of  this  Mission,  and  the  brightest 
spot  in  Beii'ut,  is  the  SjTian  Protestant  College,  founded  by 
American  liberality.  Its  comer-stone  was  laid  twenty  years 
ago  by  William  E.  Dodge  of  New  York.  Never  was  an  insti- 
tution more  wisely  planned,  or  more  successfully  conducted. 
Though  but  twenty  yeai's  old,  it  will  take  rank  w4th  any 
American  college  that  has  not  had  a  longer  existence,  and 
indeed  with  many  that  are  much  older.  The  President, 
Dr.  Bliss,  has  niu'sed  it  from  the  day  of  small  things  with 
admirable  tact  and  judgment.     Li  the  starting  of  it,  and  in 


238  THE    SYRIAN    PROTESTANT   COLLEGE. 

all  the  eaxly  years  of  its  history,  lie  acknowledges  himself 
gi-eatly  indebted  to  the  daily  counsel  and  efficient  aid  of 
Rev.  David  Stuart  Dodge,  whom  not  only  Dr.  BUss,  but 
aU  the  missionaries  here  regard  as  a  man  whose  extreme 
modesty  hides  from  all  but  those  who  know  him  intimately 
his  great  abiUty.  Thanks  to  theii'  combined  efforts,  the 
College  was  a  success  from  the  beginning.  The  President 
has  gathered  about  him  a  staff  of  professors  and  teachers 
such  as  would  make  the  reputation  of  any  college. 

Indeed  there  is  one  man  who  in  his  own  department 
has  no  superior  and  no  equal.  Dr.  Van  Dyck  is,  by  the 
confession  of  European  scholars,  the  first  Arabic  scholar 
living.  He  is  the  chief  translator  of  the  Bible  into  Arabic 
— a  work  begun  by  Dr.  Eli  Smith,  who  wrought  upon  it 
until  his  death,  when  the  burden  feU  on  Dr.  Van  Dyck, 
who  gave  to  it  twelve  years,  and  carried  it  thi'ough  to  the 
end.  The  translation  is  said  to  be  one  of  the  best  in  any 
language.  For  the  benefit  of  students,  he  has  published  a 
valuable  work  on  Arabic  Prosody.  But  he  is  not  a  mere 
Arabic  scholar.  In  other  dej)artment8  the  extent  and 
variety  of  his  attainments  is  quite  extraordinary.  He  is  a 
physician,  a  chemist,  a  mathematician,  and  an  astronomer. 
He  has  pubUshed  a  book  on  Chemistry  (of  coiu'se  in 
Arabic),  and  several  on  Medicine,  one  of  which,  on  Path- 
ology, is  a  work  of  a  thousand  pages.  There  is  one  on 
Physical  Diagnosis,  and  he  has  another  ready  for  the  press 
on  Diseases  of  tlie  Eye.  His  book  on  Geogi-aphy  has  gone 
through  ionr  editions.  He  has  published  an  edition  of 
Euchd,  and  a  work  on  Algebra  (two  editions) ;  and  a  large 
work  on  Mathematics,  including  Logarithms,  Plane  and 
Spherical  Tiigonometry,  Mensiu-ation,  Surveying,  and  Nav- 
igation; and  also  a  work  on  Astronomy,  and  has  now 
ready  for  the  press  a  second  book  on  Practical  Astronomy, 
and  still  another  on  the  Geography  of  the  Heavens.    There 


A  GREAT  AMERICAN    SCHOLAR.  239 

is  a  small  Observatory  connected  with  the  College,  where 
he  amuses  himself,  when  wearied  with  his  other  labors,  in 
watching  the  stars.  Such  an  example  of  intellectual 
activity,  in  so  many  departments,  is  very  rare  in  any 
country.  While  attending  to  all  these  departments  of  the 
College,  he  takes  his  full  share  in  the  work  of  the  Hospital, 
alternating  with  Dr.  Post.  Meeting  him  one  day  as  he 
retvimed  from  this  duty,  he  said  with  a  smile :  "  I  have 
had  only  seventy-five  cases  to-day ;  sometimes  I  have  a 
a  hundred  and  twenty-five." 

So  perfect  a  master  of  the  language  is  Dr.  Van  Dyck 
that  when  dressed  in  the  costume  of  the  country,  as  he  is 
sometimes  on  a  jovu'ney,  he  might  be  mistaken  for  a  native, 
as  indeed  he  was  on  one  memorable  occasion,  when  it 
nearly  cost  him  his  life.  In  the  war  of  1860,  when  the 
Druses  and  Maronites  were  fighting  in  the  Lebanon,  he 
was  sent  for  as  a  physician  to  care  for  the  wounded ;  and 
prompt  at  every  call  of  duty,  started  at  once,  not  even 
waiting  for  an  escort  or  a  guard,  thinking  himself  suffi- 
ciently well  known  to  be  able  to  pass  anywhere.  But  he 
fell  into  the  hands  of  a  party  who  did  not  know  him,  and 
who  could  hai'dly  believe  that  a  man  who  was  such  an 
Arab  in  his  speech,  was  not  a  native  of  the  country  ;  and 
if  so,  and  not  on  their  side,  he  must  be  an  enemy,  and  it 
might  have  gone  hard  with  him  had  not  one  who  did 
know  him  suddenly  appeared  and  rescued  him  out  of 
their  hands.  This  incident  had  a  sequel  worth  repeat- 
ing. In  the  crowd  of  those  who  were  ready  to  put  him  to 
death,  was  one  man  whom  he  thought  he  recognized,  but 
who,  instead  of  befriending  him  in  his  extremity,  seemed 
to  be  urging  the  others  on.  Several  years  after,  who 
should  come  into  the  hospital  at  Beirut  to  be  treated  for 
some  affection  of  his  eyes,  but  this  very  fellow!  The 
Doctor  knew  him  at  once  as  the  man  whom  he  had  met  in 


240  TIIK    MEDICAL    DEPARTMENT. 

qmte  other  circumstances,  and  calling  him  by  name,  said 
"Ah  ha!  are  you  here?"  at  which  the  wretch  began  to 
tremble  and  beg  for  mercy.  But  the  good  Doctor  soon 
relieved  his  fears.  "  Don't  be  afraid,"  he  said  ;  "  I  shall 
not  do  you  any  harm  "  ;  and  bending  over  him  with  as 
much  tenderness  as  if  at  the  couch  of  a  friend  in  similar 
need,  he  ministered  to  his  relief,  trying  to  save  from  blind- 
ness the  man  who  had  wished  to  shed  his  blood.  Was  ever 
an  act  more  in  the  spiiit  of  the  Divine  Master  ? 

Associated  with  this  grand  old  man  are  half  a  dozen 
younger  men,  who  are  fast  making  proof  of  their  ability, 
and  giving  promise  of  distinction. 

Connected  with  the  College  at  an  early  day  was  a  Med- 
ical Department,  of  which  Dr.  Post,  my  companion  on  the 
Desert,  has  been  fi'om  the  beginning  the  inspiring  soul, 
and  which  has  had  a  very  remarkable  success.  Of  Dr. 
Post  I  can  hardly  speak  withoiit  seeming  to  be  influenced 
by  personal  feeUng.  It  is  true  he  is  my  friend,  and  very 
dear  to  me,  and  I  could  not,  if  I  would,  take  his  measure 
"  critically."  But  I  do  not  think  I  am  unduly  influenced 
by  friendship,  when  I  regard  him  as  one  of  the  most  use- 
ful men  in  the  East.  Certainly  he  is  one  of  the  most  inde- 
fatigable men  I  have  ever  known.  Slight  in  figvire,  he  is  a 
bundle  of  nerve  and  muscle,  quick  in  motion,  of  great 
physical  activity  and  endurance,  a  splendid  horseman, 
riding  like  an  Arab,  if  need  be,  to  meet  some  call  of  duty  ; 
doing  ever}i;hing  rapidly  and  at  the  same  time  well.  Being 
in  his  house  nearly  a  week,  I  sometimes  thought  it  would 
be  the  best  reply  to  those  who  think  missionaries  have  an 
easy  time  of  it,  if  I  could  keep  a  clironicle  of  the  number 
and  variety  of  the  duties  to  which  he  attends  in  a  single 
day.  He  is  the  first  sm'geon  in  Syria.  If  he  were  to  give 
himself  up  to  private  practice,  he  could  amass  a  fortune 
rapidly.     As  it  is,  he  has  many  cases  forced  uj)on  him, 


A  PnYSICIAN  WHO    IS   NEVER   IDLE.  241 

especially  difficult  cases  of  surgery.  K  a  Turkish  Pacha 
breaks  his  bones,  he  will  have  no  one  to  set  them  right 
but  the  American  missionary.  But  Dr.  Post  prefers  to 
give  his  services  to  the  poor,  and  of  these  services  there  is 
no  end.  Every  man  who  gets  into  a  street  fight,  and  is 
battered  and  bruised,  feels  that  he  has  a  right  to  caU  on 
him  for  help.  One  moraing  we  were  riding  out  of  the 
yard,  when  we  met  several  men  coming  in,  one  of  whom 
was  bleeding  fearfully.  The  doctor  sprang  out  in  an 
instant,  and  calling  for  a  pail  of  water,  washed  the  poor 
fellow's  head  till  he  discovered  that  the  injui'ies  were  not 
fatal,  prescribed  for  him  on  the  spot,  told  his  friends  how 
to  bind  up  his  wound,  wrote  an  order  on  the  dispensary 
for  the  medicines  which  he  needed,  and  springing  into  his 
buggy  again,  was  off  to  some  other  duty.  This  sort  of 
thing  is  of  fi-equent  occui'rence.  He  is  going  from  morn- 
ing till  night,  gi\"ing  his  services  in  the  Hospital  without 
any  compensation,  as  well  as  his  lectures  in  the  College, 
writing  books  and  editing  a  medical  journal.  He  has  pre- 
pared a  series  of  Text  Books  on  Sirrgery,  Materia  Medica, 
Botany,  Zoology,  and  Physiology,  besides  a  Concordance  of 
the  Arabic  Bible,  a  large  octavo  volvmae.  Then  for  want  of 
sufficient  occupation,  to  fill  up  the  time  he  edits  a  Monthly 
Medical  JoTirnal,  which  he  has  carried  on  his  shoulders  for 
years. 

To  complete  the  work  of  the  College,  was  added  to  it 
some  ten  years  ago  a  Theological  Department,  a  legacy 
from  that  sainted  man,  who  in  his  mountain  home  upon 
Lebanon,  used  to  prepare  young  men  for  the  ministry. 
"When  at  last,  worn  down  with  labor,  he  left  for  America 
to  die,  that  course  of  instruction  was  removed  to  Beinit, 
and  made  a  Department  of  the  College.  It  is  now  under 
the  care  of  Kev.  Dr.  Dennis,  a  man  whose  thorough 
scholarly  training  at  Princeton,  and  many  qualifications 


242      WHAT  AMERICA  HAS  TO  SHOW  IX  THE  EAST. 

both  of  mind  and  heart,  eminently  fit  him  for  the  Tvork  of 
educating  young  men.  In  the  instruction  he  is  aided  in 
different  portions  of  the  course  of  study  by  Drs.  Van  Dyck 
and  Eddy,  men  of  long  experience,  who,  having  been 
themselves  greatly  useful  in  the  Church,  know  how  to 
teach  others  to  be  useful  also.  With  such  equipments,  and 
growing  in  strength  every  year,  this  Protestant  College  is 
an  immeasurable  good  to  the  country. 

Such  are  the  monuments  of  a  power  which  is  better 
than  ships  and  guns.  If  asked  what  America  has  to  show 
in  the  East,  we  answer.  No  battle-fields  like  those  of  the 
Crimea,  no  siege  of  Sebastopol,  no  bombardment  of  Alex- 
andria ;  but  on  the  Bosphorus  there  stands  a  College 
founded  by  American  Uberality,  which  is  as  eloquent  in 
one  way  as  the  cemetery  at  Scutari,  which  contains  so 
many  of  the  noble  English  dead,  is  in  another.  That  Col- 
lege wlU  do  more,  in  the  ages  to  come,  for  the  regeneration 
of  Tiu'key,  than  was  wrought  by  all  the  fearful  sacrifice  of 
life,  the  sad  memorial  of  which  is  in  that  hallowed  ground 
where  sleep  "the  unreturning  brave."  "What  Robert 
College  is  to  European  Turkey,  the  College  at  Beirut  is  to 
S}Tia. 

Our  visit  is  coming  to  a  close.  We  have  made  the  tour 
of  the  Holy  Land,  and  in  leaving  it,  our  reflections  are  of  a 
mingled  character  :  sorrow  and  pain  alternating  with  love 
and  tenderness.  Sometimes  we  have  been  moved  to  a  feel- 
ing of  contempt.  In  riding  over  its  rugged  hills,  I  have 
asked  myself  again  and  again,  Can  this  be  the  Promised 
Land? — and  inwardly  thanked  God  that  it  was  not  the 
land  promised  to  our  fathers.  Old  Massachusetts  is  worth 
a  hundred  Palestines.  In  that  Commonwealth  which  we 
are  proud  to  call  our  mother,  there  is  more  intelligence, 
more  wealth  and  comfort,  more  domestic  virtue  and  happi- 
ness, more  order  and  civilization,  yes,  and  more  genuine 


FAREWELL   TO    THE    HOLY    LAND.  243 

Christianity,  than  in  all  the  land  of  the  East.  But  let  us 
not  be  lifted  up  ^ith  pride,  because  of  our  prosperity,  and 
say  boastingly,  "  He  hath  not  dealt  so  with  any  people  "  ; 
nor  look  with  a  pity  but  little  removed  from  scorn  on  those 
whose  house  is  left  unto  them  desolate.  Rather  would  we 
come  with  the  Jews  to  their  wailing-place,  by  the  founda- 
tion stones  of  the  Temple,  and  cry  "  O  God,  the  heathen 
are  come  into  thine  inheritance,"  and  pray  that  after  all 
these  ages  the  time  to  favor  Zion  may  come.  Let  us  not 
forget  that  this  land,  so  bleak  and  barren  now,  has  given 
Christ  to  the  world  ;  tliat  it  is  the  cradle  of  our  Religion  ; 
and  that  but  for  it,  the  Commonwealth  of  Old  England 
and  the  Commonwealths  of  New  England  wotdd  never 
have  been  bom.  Of  all  that  we  have,  not  of  Religion  only, 
but  of  Liberty  also,  we  must  trace  back  the  origin  to  the 
Galilean  HOls. 

At  length  the  end  must  come  ;  the  farewells  must  be 
spoken.  As  we  sat  round  the  table  for  the  last  time,  with 
Dean  Howson  for  a  guest,  our  hearts  were  divided  between 
the  land  where  we  had  enjoyed  so  much  in  wandering 
among  its  holy  hills,  and  the  dear  homes  of  England  and 
America  ;  after  which  Dr.  Post  and  Dr.  Dennis  "  accom- 
panied me  to  the  ship,"  a  steamer  of  the  Austrian  Lloyds, 
which  was  crowded  with  passengers,  among  whom  were 
many  English  and  American  clerg^^men,  who  having  been 
to  Jerusalem  for  the  Holy  Week,  and  made  the  tour  of 
Palestine,  were  now  taking  their  departure  from  the  East. 
The  day  was  nearly  gone  when  the  ship  turned  her  head 
to  the  west,  and  bore  away  for  C;^7)nis.  Slowly  came  doAvn 
over  the  sea  the  soft  Eastern  twilight,  in  which  we  lingered, 
gazing  at  the  receding  shores,  till  they  grew  dim  in  the 
gathering  darkness,  and  the  last  glow  of  sunset  faded  from 
the  top  of  Lebanon. 


UNIVERSITY  of  CALIFORNIA 

AT 

LOS  ANGELES 

T  TRP  A  P  V 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-25iH-9,'47(A5G18)444 


UC  SOUTHERN  H[GIU-.-L  L  :!iHAH  H  ACUITY 


AA      000  220  223    2 


